This Is Not What I Had Planned
by eukaryote
Summary: "You know what happened. You know. You cannot despise me more than I despise myself." Snippets from Albus Dumbledore's life. This will contain Grindelwald, Aberforth, Ariana, and even Harry. Contains Albus/Gellert as a pairing. COMPLETE. Edit: REOPENED DUE TO FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM.
1. First Kiss

_A/N: Oh God, this is what boredom does to me. This is a collection of snapshots from Albus Dumbledore's life. The only warnings you need to know is it includes homosexuality (because he's gay) and it contains some bad language, especially thanks to Aberforth. _

_What really bothers me is, after Deathly Hallows, a very large portion of the HP fandom decided to hate Dumbledore. This bothers me because Albus Dumbledore is my favorite Harry Potter character, and maybe my favorite character of any fandom. Oh, there's no doubt Dumbledore messed up and did some very wrong things. However, I see him as a flawed, but innately good, human, and I think that's how JK Rowling intended him. I see him as very likeable, because he's a human who messed up and who, in his own words "despises" himself. He messed up and he knows it, and he was made a fool by love but he still believes in its goodness, and I find that very nice for some reason.  
_

_So, this is how I see Albus Dumbledore._

_You should know I try to stick to canon as closely as possible. I want these stories to be as believable as possible. Now, this first chapter is meant to be funny, and hopefully it is. _

* * *

_**The idea of a teenage Dumbledore was simply odd, like trying to imagine a stupid Hermione or a friendly Blast-Ended Skrewt. **_

_**\- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, p. 21 (US)**_

* * *

Sixteen-year-old Albus Dumbledore was walking down the halls late. It was two nights before the vast majority of the students were to board the Hogwarts Express and go home for Christmas, Albus included. He couldn't sleep, and to be honest, he did not really want to go home in a couple days, because home always felt like a guilt trip. He loved his brother, sister, and mother, but having to look at Ariana and her daily struggles always made him feel awful. It was his fault Ariana had a mental breakdown that she has still not recovered from. It was his fault Ariana would never walk through the halls of Hogwarts like himself. Albus was supposed to be watching her when those Muggles snatched her and did those horrible things to her, but he became distracted and forgot about her...

It was an old wound, but Albus could still feel it when he was at home. He had tried to tell himself that he had only been ten years old at the time, not even old enough to go to Hogwarts, but the guilt inside him still squirmed every time he felt Ariana looking at him. Albus did not have the relationship Aberforth had with Ariana because he could not. A guilty conscious kept him from that. He knew that Ariana did not really blame him, but it felt like she did sometimes.

Albus stopped walking and squinted in the semi-darkness. He had heard footsteps.

Andrea Williams emerged from the darkness. She was in Gryffindor and in his year, but she was not a Prefect or a Head Girl, so she had no business wandering around the castle after hours.

"Hi Albus," she said softly. Despite the fact that it was now past midnight, she still had all her make-up on, and it was looking flawless.

Albus blinked at her. "What're you doing wandering around this time of night?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she said with a sheepish smile.

"Can't sleep, but I'm a Prefect and you aren't, so you really should go back to bed –"

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Albus," she said with a tilted head. "It's Christmas."

Albus didn't know what Christmas had to do with breaking school rules, so he simply said, "Yes, but you really shouldn't be outside of the Gryffindor Common Room."

"Okay," she said, putting some of her dark brown hair behind her left ear. "Will you walk back with me?"

Albus blinked again. "Er, why?"

She grinned, her white teeth showing. Then she shrugged. "It's a little creepy around here late at night."

Albus could not make neither heads nor tails of this scenario and he was surveying her with great suspicion. If she found Hogwarts "creepy" at night, why was she roaming the halls by herself? He wanted to ask her this, but instead, he heard himself say, "Well… all right. Let's go, then."

Andrea walked close to him, way too close. Her right arm would brush against his, but when Albus moved further away from her, she moved in toward him. He was walking at risk of starting to run into the wall, so he eventually gave up.

"So," Andrea said, "what is it you do for fun? You spend a lot of time in empty classrooms; what is it you're doing?"

"Dragon blood," Albus muttered as Andrea's arm brushed against his again. "I am trying to find uses for the magical properties in dragon blood. Dragon blood is is extremely powerful, but surprisingly underutilized, so I am trying to discover new ways wizards and witches can benefit from it."

"Oh," said Andrea in what sounded like feigned interest. "That's interesting. How do wizards get dragon blood anyway?"

Albus could feel his brain clunking along very slowly. "I'm sorry?"

"They're really mean, dragons. How do you collect it?"

Albus tried to be kind; he tried to be understanding. He believed that it was important to be kind to everyone, and that there were all sorts of different people out there with their own unique sets of strengths and weaknesses, but the word _stupid_ went blazing its way through his mind unwittingly.

"You stun them," Albus said as patiently as possible. "Multiple witches and wizards stun them at one time."

"Right," said Andrea, sounding as if she did not really care. Albus briefly wondered if she had slipped and smacked her head against something and was suffering from a concussion. This conversation made no sense whatsoever and she seemed very out-of-it. But of course, he couldn't think of a polite way to ask her if she had hit her head, so he changed the subject.

"Are you excited to go home for the holidays?" he said finally.

"Oh, yes," she said happily. "No more school work…." Then it seemed like she remembered who she was talking to. "I – I mean," she faltered, "I like, er, learning, but sometimes all the work stresses me out, you know?"

Albus couldn't really agree, but he did not want to be impolite. He just grunted and then opted for silence.

They had reached the Fat Lady. Andrea took a deep breath and spun on her heel so that she was facing him. She was close to him, far too close, and Albus felt like he was going to fall backwards.

"You're really smart," she breathed as she drew closer to him still.

He felt like his brain had stopped working and time started to go by very slowly. He did not fancy Andrea – he had never thought to himself that she was attractive or pretty, but he felt a rush of excitement and anxiety spread through him. Maybe he could come to like Andrea – she was popular anyway, so she must have some good qualities, right? This was the moment that teenage boys everywhere waited for. Wasn't a first kiss considered a milestone or something?

But when Andrea pressed her lips against his, he felt… nothing. He was frozen. Andrea started to move her lips, but all he felt was a definite sense of anticlimax. Albus stepped backwards and scowled.

"Don't do that," he said with a frown. He felt like he had just been cheated out of something that should have been wonderful. It was nothing like he had expected. He felt absolutely nothing for this girl and it bothered him.

"What?" she said quizzically, looking puzzled.

Albus took in a breath and reminded himself to _be nice_. "I'm sorry, Andrea – truly. It's just… I don't have any feelings for you."

She stared at him.

"I mean," he faltered, "you're really – er – pretty and everything, but –"

"You are saying you aren't attracted to me?" she said coolly.

"I'm sorry."

A fire lit in her eyes. "You can't turn me down – no boy would ever turn me down! I'm the prettiest girl in this entire school! And you're _ordinary_-looking!"

Oh, so _this_ was her true nature. Albus' temper flared. "I just did turn you down," he said shortly. "Now go to bed before I report you. Have a Merry Christmas."

Fuming, Andrea shouted the password at the Fat Lady and stormed off to bed. Once the portrait closed, the Fat Lady began to laugh.

"Yes, very funny," Albus said angrily, yet he found himself smiling. The whole thing seemed funnier now that Albus was not facing Andrea's angry glare. "I am glad you are amused at my expense."

* * *

The next morning, as Albus sat with Elphias eating scrambled eggs, Elphias pointed out something Albus hadn't noticed.

"So, er, Albus?" said Elphias a little too animatedly for the early hour. Elphias had already had three cups of coffee and Albus was sure his caffeine addiction was going to give him a heart attack one day.

Albus grumbled to let his friend know he was listening.

"Why is every single girl looking at you with a furious expression?" Elphias asked.

Albus looked up to see a gaggle of Gryffindor girls looking at him coldly down the left of the table. They quickly turned away in disgust and one even shook her head.

"No idea," Albus lied promptly. He felt someone sit to his right and he looked over to see Fallon Jones. Her long honey-colored hair was behind her in a ponytail and she was grinning from ear to ear.

"Fallon, why is every girl in our House mad at Albus?" Elphias inquired.

Fallon laughed. "Oh God, Albus. Albus, did Andrea really snog you last night?"

"_WHAT_?" Elphias exclaimed so loudly that several people jumped. Some of the coffee he was holding spilled onto his arm.

"Elphias," Fallon said impatiently, "put the coffee down…. Good. Albus, did she?"

"Assaulted, more like," Albus said with a slight smile.

"Why don't any girls assault me?" Elphias demanded. "I can't even get a girl to sit next to me in Charms."

"So she's going around telling everyone how cruel I am that I turned her down?" asked Albus.

"Yes, she is telling her sob story to any female that will listen," Fallon confirmed.

"And everyone is angry because I cannot _not_ kiss a girl back? Because I should have no choice in the manner?"

"Well," Fallon said, "sort of. She is exaggerating a bit, I think. She's telling everyone that you pulled away and called her ugly."

Albus' fork clattered to his plate. "I never said that!" he said, outraged.

"I know," Fallon said. "Don't worry, I don't think every girl believes it. I certainly don't."

"I can't believe you didn't kiss her back," said Elphias grumpily. "She's the most attractive girl in all of Hogwarts. After you, of course, Fallon," he added kindly.

"Nice save, Elphias," Fallon said.

"I've been told," said Albus wearily. "She threw a temper tantrum, she did. 'I'm the prettiest girl in the entire school.' Unbelievable."

Fallon snorted. "Don't worry, tomorrow we go home and everyone will have forgotten about it by the time we get back."

* * *

Yet the excitement of the ordeal was not over for Albus. Later that afternoon, Andrea cornered Albus again and demanded she wanted to speak to him in private as loudly as she possibly could in order to draw as much attention to the exchange as possible.

"Of course," Albus agreed reluctantly, already feeling hot around the collar due to all of the eyes that were on him.

"Great," said Andrea.

As Albus unwittingly followed Andrea outside into the freezing cold, he was sure he saw Fallon give him a wink, while Elphias looked jealous. If Albus had been in a better mood, he might have found it funny.

Andrea quickly rounded on Albus and he found himself back up against the wall to one of the snow-capped greenhouses. He almost felt sorry for her, because she looked very tired and her eyes were red, as if she had been up crying all night. Then he remembered that she was spreading lies about him and that sympathy evaporated.

"Why do you not want to go out with me?" she demanded.

Albus said nothing, his face becoming more and more flushed.

"I need to know, Albus," she said shrilly. "Of course, I have a couple ideas, but I need to know the truth."

Albus stared at her shoes, which had almost disappeared into the snow completely. The silence stretched on uncomfortably. "What – what are your 'ideas'?"

Andrea took in a deep breath. "I have two theories," she said after a deliberate and very dramatic pause. "The first one is that you're very afraid of intimacy."

He was trying so hard to keep a straight face. In an attempt not to burst out laughing, he furrowed his brow and pressed his lips together in apparent contemplation. "Okay," he said after a moment when he felt in control enough to not laugh as soon as he opened his mouth. "What is the second one?"

She took another dramatic breath and said, "The second one is that you aren't even attracted to women at all… that you're… interested in men only."

That took Albus by complete surprise. His look of fake contemplation broke and he suddenly looked very interested. "Do you think –?"

"Please tell me it's one of those two," she begged. "But listen, if it's not, if there's something wrong with me, if I was too forward, if I was too ugly last night, if I messed up my eyeliner, if you had an upset stomach, if anything, just please give me the truth."

But Albus didn't say anything for a long moment.

"Take as long as you need," she said, "but don't sugarcoat it."

"Oh," Albus said, jarred from his thoughts. "Right... Intimacy. That's scary."

Andrea nodded in understanding. "Okay," she said. "I understand. You're homosexual. Everything makes sense now."

"What?" yelped Albus. "That's not –"

"Don't worry," she said with a reassuring pat on his shoulder. "I'll just tell everyone you're scared of intimacy. Have a good Christmas."

Albus stared at her back as she walked away, open-mouthed and mortified. Eventually, he realized he was probably very close to developing the first stages of hypothermia, so he trekked his way through the snow back into the castle.

He walked around the castle numbly, speaking to no one.

_Oh shit. Am I?_

But Albus had never been attracted to another boy before. Yes, it was odd that he was sixteen years old and he had never looked at another girl with any kind of lust whatsoever, but he had never been attracted to another boy either. Albus had always ignored the hormones that were so prevalent in seemingly everybody else; he had found the adolescent interest in sex to be more of an annoyance than anything else. His peers were constantly so concerned with who was attracted to who, and the other sixth years were always finding secluded places all over the school to do all kinds of lewd things to one another, but Albus had always found the topic so boring. Was there something wrong with him?

Elphias said he wished Andrea had kissed him; he would've grabbed Andrea and kissed her back, but Albus didn't. And Albus knew Fallon had already kissed some Hufflepuff boy named Oliver last school year; she was normal. When Andrea, "the prettiest girl in the entire school," had kissed Albus, he had pulled away. Not only had he pulled away, he didn't enjoy it. At all.

_Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit._

But he had never fantasized about a boy before either, he reminded himself a thousand times, nor did he want to let his imagination wander there. Mortified, Albus went to the Common Room and said nothing to anyone.

* * *

Later that same night, Albus got out of bed, went out into the Common Room with a book, and sat on the couch in front of the fireplace. He had fallen asleep early, but was now wide awake. It was almost four in the morning and everyone had long retired to bed. Albus decided he would read until he felt tired enough to go back to sleep. He had three and half hours before he would have to get up and pack his belongings.

He read for nearly half an hour in peace before he heard someone shuffling from the girls' dormitory. His heart immediately hammered and his mind went wild. Maybe it would be Andrea. Maybe Albus could try his hardest to be a hormone-crazed heterosexual male and push her against the wall and snog her senseless, just to prove to himself that he was "normal." But it wasn't Andrea.

It was Fallon.

"Albus," she said quietly in surprise. "What're you doing up at this hour?"

"Can't sleep," he said quietly.

Fallon yawned and walked over to him. Her hair was a mess and she looked much paler without any make-up on. She sat down beside him.

"I can't sleep either," she confessed. "But no loss. I really love four o'clock in the morning."

They sat comfortably for a while in silence as Fallon watched the flames and Albus pretended to be reading his book.

"So," she said finally, "what did Andrea say yesterday?"

Albus was silent for a moment. He decided he felt comfortable enough to tell Fallon, so he did.

"- and then," he finished irritably, "she says, 'don't worry; I'll just tell everyone you're scared of intimacy,' and she walks away!"

Fallon scoffed. She did not have a taken-aback look on her face. Albus watched her carefully for signs of disgust or surprise, but he found none.

"Andrea is a moron," Fallon was telling him. "Seriously, Albus, just forget about it. Everyone will forget about it over break. She'll find another boy, though of course, not one as nice as you," she finished kindly.

"But," Albus said worriedly, "I don't want her telling everyone in the school that I'm 'scared of intimacy.' And what if there _is_ something wrong with me?"

She smiled, a little too knowingly, her brown eyes warm. "What if you actually are afraid of intimacy? Or if you actually are homosexual? Who cares, Albus? If you are, we can cry about men together." She closed her eyes and shifted her weight a bit. Even though this conversation was a very serious one to Albus, Fallon seemed completely relaxed, and a smile was spreading across her face.

"My older sisters and I," she went on tiredly, "always exchange outrageous dirty planning book calendars every Christmas. Pictures of topless men holding kittens or something completely laughable like that, you know. It's a family tradition. If you are interested in men, we can add you to our circle of dirty planning book calendar gifting."

And despite the fact that Albus was genuinely worried, despite the fact that he would never be comfortable having this conversation with anyone else, he found himself choking in laughter as he tried to not wake up the rest of the slumbering Gryffindors.

* * *

Since Albus was able to laugh away his troubles, he was finally able to go back to sleep. He slept for another two hours and woke up in a good mood. This good mood was unfortunately squashed when he ran into Aberforth as he headed down to breakfast.

His little brother saw him and started laughing uncontrollably.

Albus scowled, Elphias was already holding a cup of coffee, and Fallon just smiled faintly.

"_Sc-scared of intimacy_," the thirteen-year-old managed. He laughed until he fell into a coughing fit.

Albus pushed past him, annoyed yet thankful that Andrea was telling everyone this "explanation" instead of the other. If Aberforth ever believed Albus was homosexual, he'd never hear the end of it. This thought made his stomach fill with anxiety again, but he tried to focus on the humor he had found in it at four in the morning.

* * *

_A/N: Reviews are my motivation, guys. Even if you want to argue with me about Dumbledore as a character, that's cool too. I wanna know what you think!_


	2. Harry

_A/N: Hi guys, so I normally write a lot of dialogue and less descriptions, but I thought it was absolutely necessary for this chapter. Dumbledore doesn't really talk to anyone about Harry, I don't think - so we can only look into his thoughts. Hopefully it's not too boring. Dumbledore's relationship with Harry is what is controversial about him - he was only using Harry and he deserved a good bashing for it, etc. I thought this chapter was necessary to ground it._

_The vast majority of this is taken directly from canon. I'm going to leave a long list of all the canon I use at the end. I'm listing every piece of canon this came from because I know there might be some readers that are not Dumbledore fans._

_**Amy **__\- Yes, I know, I hate all the Dumbledore bashing! It is so sad - I don't think JK Rowling meant to have so many people view him as a horrible person, because Harry ended up naming his second son after him. And yes, Andrea is a stupid bitch! She's a self-absorbed person. I don't exactly think she's a really bad person or anything - she's just self-absorbed, but on the inside very insecure. I'm glad you like Fallon - I like her too._

_**Red Furry Demon**__ \- I'm glad you found the last chapter funny! That was how I intended it to be. Fallon is a character I completely made up. I think Albus needed a girl as a friend, so I gave him one! False lies, yeah, will you believe me that I read through that chapter 5 times before I submitted it? So frustrating - there's probably going to be a few things wrong with this chapter too. And yeah, I'm going to use slang only sparingly - I wish I knew how they talked in the 1890s, but I don't. I can barely manage today's British slang!_

* * *

**"I don't want to say too much, but Dumbledore is a very wise man who knows that Harry is going to have to learn a few hard lessons to prepare him for what may be coming in his life. He allows Harry to get into what he wouldn't allow another pupil to do and he also unwillingly permits Harry to confront things he'd rather protect him from."**

**\- JK Rowling, 2003**

**"Although [Dumbledore] seems to be so benign for six books, he's quite a Machiavellian figure, really. He's been pulling a lot of strings. Harry has been his puppet."**

**\- JK Rowling, 2007**

**"I devote an entire chapter to the whole Potter-Dumbledore relationship. It's been called unhealthy, even sinister. ... [T]here is no question that Dumbledore took an unnatural interest in Potter from the word go." **

**-Rita Skeeter, Deathly Hallows  
**

* * *

Amy Beam, an Unspeakable for the Ministry of Magic, had just finished listening and watching to Albus Dumbledore's memory in the Department of Mysteries' own Pensieve. Her hazel eyes were wide and her face was full of astonishment. Albus remembered her as a student at Hogwarts; she had graduated fifteen years ago – or was it closer to twenty now?

"My God," she muttered faintly. "My God."

"You do agree that it is a real prophecy then, Amy?" asked Albus with a grim expression.

"Absolutely!" she said at once. "Yes, definitely. This is… this is some prophecy, Professor Dumbledore."

"Amy, you are no longer a student. Please call me Albus."

Amy shook her wavy brown hair, looking a bit nervous of the prospect of calling Albus Dumbledore by his first name. A silence settled between them in which Amy stared thoughtfully at the Pensieve that was placed on the desk between them and Albus sat across from her patiently, waiting for her to speak. He was quite certain he understood what the prophecy meant, but Albus did not pretend to be an expert on prophecies. Amy was the expert here.

"This is a very… relevant… prophecy," Amy finally said.

"You believe this boy will be born at the end of this coming July?"

"Oh, definitely. Whoever he is, he will present himself to you soon, Prof – er – Albus. You will know who he is because he will cross paths with you, one way or another."

"Cross paths with me?" said Albus in surprise. "What makes you think this?"

"Sir," said Amy very seriously, "prophecies are not made to just anybody. You were meant to hear this prophecy. Not me, not another man, not anyone else. You, Albus Dumbledore. This Seer gave you this prophecy for a reason. It was destiny."

Why did Unspeakables always have to talk in riddles?

"But why me? What am I supposed to do?"

She took a deep breath before saying, very slowly and deliberately, "You are the leader in the war against You-Know-Who. You are the leader of the Order of the Phoenix and you are the headmaster of the school where all British young go to learn magic. It is therefore logical that you are meant to protect and guide this boy, whoever he is. Protect him, teach him, and train him up until he is ready to face You-Know-Who on his own. You will have a large impact on shaping his life. Your connection to this boy is fate."

Two thoughts went through Albus' head as he sat in silence. The first one was _I feel bad for this boy, whoever he is_. The second thought was _I'm getting too old for this_.

"You are responsible for guiding him to success," Amy whispered so quietly Albus could barely hear her. "You are meant to be a guiding force in his life, visibly… or invisibly."

This exchange took place over fifteen years ago.

The present day Albus Dumbledore opened his eyes and stared ahead blankly, thinking. He was sitting alone in the large kitchen of Grimmauld Place. It was past midnight and Albus knew he was making a mistake by not trying to get some sleep. He hadn't been sleeping much anymore and he was exhausted, but he could not stop thinking – about Voldemort, about Fudge… about Harry.

Harry was too good of a person to deserve this life that had been handed to him.

Amy Beam had been right. Albus was supposed to be Harry's protector. Albus had taken this role very seriously, and he immediately opted for guiding Harry invisibly. He had done everything he could to protect Harry from the moment it became clear that the prophecy was about him, starting with the Fidelius charm. But it seemed like he had failed miserably.

He knew, right now, Harry Potter was angry and unhappy. He knew the Dursleys were hateful and cruel to him. He knew this from early on. At the age of four, Harry had come to Arabella Figg's house with a black eye. Petunia said he had fallen on the playground, but Arabella did not believe it, and neither did Albus. Harry told Arabella that it was from Dudley. Albus was faced with the difficult choice: should he forfeit the blood protection and remove Harry from Privet Drive or not? He had chosen not to, but to monitor the situation more closely. Had he made the wrong decision? Probably.

Safety had always been Albus' number one priority in regards to Harry. As long as Harry was not being physically abused, he was able to eat enough food, and his body temperature remained somewhere around thirty-seven degrees Celsius, Albus could live with Harry being unhappy for the time being. Harry's happiness came second, and maybe this was wrong of Albus. He tried to tell himself that Harry was all right, that he would rejoin the Wizarding world shortly, and that he was not being physically abused. _Ah_, said a small voice in his head, _but emotional abuse is still abuse_. Why, oh why couldn't the Dursleys be halfway decent?

Albus' first big test came when Harry was three years old. A Death Eater, Gibbon, who was known to be a Death Eater but had evaded capture for the past two years – had found where Harry Potter lived. A friend of Gibbon's had moved into Little Whinging, only a couple streets away from Harry, and had recognized the toddler one day to be none other than the famous Harry Potter. This said friend passed this information to Gibbon, and Gibbon made his move.

After Gibbon's interrogation, it was revealed he had waited outside of number four, Privet Drive. He kept watch until Harry and Dudley came outside. There was Harry Potter, the Harry Potter, playing with a stick in the grass (probably because he wasn't allowed to use Dudley's toys), and Gibbon shot _Avada Kedavra _at him. It was useless. The beam of light disappeared into oblivion. Harry was still on the Dursleys' property. Gibbon could not even set foot into the yard. It did not take long for Albus to realize that someone was attacking Harry Potter's shield – one of his silver instruments on his desk told Albus this.

It was chaos. Three Aurors and Albus himself caught Gibbon. One more for Azkaban.

Harry never even _saw_ them. _Avada Kedavra_ was shot at him and he never _saw_ or _heard_ a thing! That was how perfectly Lily's blood protected him – the blood that flowed through Petunia Dursley. The Aurors were floored by the invisible shield that protected Harry. They had never seen anything like it.

So, Albus learned from mistakes. No witch or wizard was ever going to be living in Little Whinging – not while Harry Potter lived there. Albus never ever, ever, wanted to remove Harry from his aunt – not while his enchantments had passed their first test beautifully.

So yes, it was safety first, happiness second. Albus had always figured that maybe Harry could be happy later in life, but he could never be happy later if he was already dead.

Yet as Albus sat there in the kitchen, he frowned. Maybe his priorities were so backwards that he could not see straight anymore. Albus did not trust his own judgment, but no one else knew as much about the situation as Albus knew. He would not remove Harry until he was sure Harry would be safe at Headquarters.

At the moment, Albus wanted Harry to be inside his aunt and uncle's house every second of every day, but how could he tell Harry that he could not go beyond the Dursley's property? Harry was vulnerable as soon as he stepped out of the property lines, but how could Albus practically put him under house arrest? Should he explain to Harry why it was so important for him to remain in that house? Albus did not want to scare him. He did not want Harry to know that he was so worried about him that he was having Order members following him every hour of every day. It had been so difficult for Albus to look into Harry's eyes the night Voldemort came back and he was quite certain it was equally difficult for Harry to look him in the eye as well. The fourteen-year-old had been tortured. He had had every Unforgivable Curse thrown at him. He watched Cedric Diggory die. Albus did not want Harry to know much.

Albus put his face in his hands in exhaustion. Harry deserved a better protector than him.

And the prophecy… Albus did not want to make Harry go through with it. He did not like to think about what he, Albus, will have to ask of Harry. Albus was quite certain now that Harry would survive the Killing Curse again; he was quite certain Voldemort had unknowingly tethered Harry's life to his own when he used Harry's blood, but Albus could not tell Harry this. Intent is everything. Intention changes magic. If Harry knew he will survive and he goes before Voldemort knowing that he really will not die, that would change Harry's intent. If Harry faced Voldemort intending to let him kill him… that might tip events in Harry's favor….

Harry had survived Voldemort's attack as a baby because Voldemort had intended to let Lily Potter live…. If Voldemort had stepped into Godric's Hollow planning on killing Lily all along – if he had not given Lily the chance to step aside and save herself – then the curse would not have rebounded and all three of the Potters would be long dead. Intent has dramatic magical consequences and Albus knew this better than anyone.

Albus knew Harry would be willing to die to stop Voldemort, willing to do anything. This made Albus feel, if possible, even worse.

So Albus sat there knowing that he was going to ask Harry to walk to his death one day, without telling him he will most likely live. Albus did not want Harry to know this yet until the last possible moment to save him as much fear as possible. Ignorance is much better. The fact that Harry was going to need to be hit by _Avadra Kedavra_ yet again was a card Albus kept close to himself. No one else knew this. The less Harry knew, the better.

"I do not want anyone here to tell Harry about what is happening with Lord Voldemort," Albus had said to the room full of Order members five days previously. "He is just turning fifteen. It would be irresponsible for any adult to give him more information than he needs to know."

Sirius Black began to protest.

"Sirius, you know Harry has been traumatized by what happened after he touched the Portkey," Albus said sharply. "You are the only other person in this room who has heard Harry's account firsthand. We do not need to traumatize him any further."

"But Harry is capable –"

"I know Harry is capable, but that does not mean we should ask him to shoulder adult responsibilities," said Albus. "Harry is more capable of carrying heavy burdens than I could have ever dreamed of, but I am counting on all of you to treat him like an adolescent, not an adult. You, Sirius, I am counting on the most, because I need you to be his primary parental figure."

Sirius closed his mouth and looked mollified.

"I know I can also count on you, Molly and Arthur," Albus said. "Even you, Remus."

Sirius worried Albus a great deal. He was afraid Sirius would let Harry know too much. Albus was not sure anyone else understood how damaged Sirius was. Sirius was a good person who had suffered every single day for thirteen years in Azkaban. He had been only twenty-one years old when he had been thrown over to the dementors and locked away. This had left a scar on him. People do not mature, grow, or gain wisdom while in Azkaban. Sirius was very much still a twenty-one-year-old, and he could not help but see Harry as a friend – a _peer_ – rather than on an adult-child relationship. This was not Sirius' fault, of course, but it was worrisome to Albus.

Right now, Albus was sure Harry was dreadfully unhappy, and it was Albus' doing. Yet Albus had made his decision: Harry would remain with his aunt and uncle until Grimmauld Place was perfectly protected, but Harry was allowed to roam outside. An Order member would have Harry under surveillance at all times, completely unbeknownst to him. Harry would not be told any inside information the Order knows.

_And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…. _Harry deserved better – so much better – than being used as a pawn by Albus Dumbledore. The flaw in Albus' plan was that he cared about Harry. He had come to love him, even though he had told himself to not. It is difficult to pull the strings of a puppet you love. Albus was playing chess – everyone was one of his pieces. Harry was a pawn that Albus kept looking over at, caring for. You can't care about a pawn too much if you're going to win the game. It is extremely difficult to send someone you love to their possible death.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _

It was all for the greater good. Albus really did not consider himself all that different from Gellert Grindelwald. Grindelwald had truly believed he was doing evil for the greater good. Albus also believed he was doing evil for the greater good._ You are just like him_, Albus told himself in self-disgust. Two sides of the same coin.

* * *

One of Albus' fears were realized on the second of August – his birthday, actually. His birthday present was Harry nearly having his soul sucked out his mouth by a couple of dementors. Harry had wandered far from his home and Mundungus Fletcher had left his post.

Albus' mental abuse directed toward himself began. This was _exactly_ why he should have told Harry to not leave his aunt and uncle's property line. Had Harry lost his soul, it would have entirely been Albus' fault. The fact that Harry was even _able_ to produce a Patronus after what had happened to him less than two months ago was nothing short of a miracle.

"You _left_?" Molly Weasley shrieked at Mundungus. "You _left_ Harry Potter _alone_?"

"I – it was a very, very good business opportunity," Mundungus said, looking rightfully ashamed.

"That is not what is important," Albus said, trying to gather his thoughts as he looked at his watch. Harry was, indeed, now on his aunt and uncle's property again. Temporary relief washed over him before he realized that it was absolutely, one hundred percent imperative that Harry _stay_ there.

"Fudge will bring some kind of punishment for underage magic," Albus said. "Molly and Arthur, I need you to write quick word to Harry, telling him to not, under any circumstances, leave that house, right now. Someone please find Sirius and tell him to do the same."

There was a flurry of movement as Arthur grabbed a piece of parchment and frantically started writing.

"I am sure Fudge will attempt to expel Harry," Albus said.

There were cries of protest, but Albus raised his hand and said, "He legally cannot, but that does not mean he will not try. I have to go to the Ministry, please tell Harry to not leave his aunt and uncle's house, to not do anymore magic, and to not hand over his wand if a Ministry representative comes to destroy it – I have to go –"

"Go," said Molly hoarsely as she read what Arthur was scribbling to Harry.

Albus didn't need telling twice.

Cornelius Fudge was not happy to see Albus. Fudge's face had been shining in glee as he talked animatedly with Mafalda Hopkirk.

"Expelled!" said Fudge happily. "Such a shame that boy is absolutely insane; I think he really had talent too."

"Shame indeed," said Mrs. Hopkirk. She was not looking Albus' way; she was too busy fiddling with her papers. "But if he is a loose cannon, I suppose it is all for the better to have his wand destroyed. I'll put the order in for someone to go snap it in two. That rotten liar deserves it!"

"Agreed!"

Fudge spun around on his heel to see Albus Dumbledore five feet behind him. The drastic change in Fudge's expression was almost comical. The blood actually drained from Mafalda Hopkirk's face.

"Good evening, Cornelius, Mafalda," Albus said calmly. "Am I correct in hearing that a student of mine has been expelled?"

There was a very long pause.

"Yes, Dumbledore, that's right," spat Fudge.

"That is interesting, Cornelius, because the Ministry does not have the power to expel Hogwarts students. That power belongs to me. Furthermore, the Ministry does not have the right to confiscate wands until charges have been formally proven."

Fudge swayed a bit on his feet. "Underage magic, especially magic in front of a Muggle, is against the law."

"Oh yes, definitely, as it should be, unless the given witch or wizard performing the magic is in life or death peril," said Albus. "However, if a crime has indeed been committed this evening, I am completely in support of this student facing consequences for his actions. I trust you will want there to be some sort of investigation into the matter to see what has truly happened tonight?"

"Potter has already been warned for using underage magic," Fudge said angrily, his face steadily growing redder.

"Well, this is true, but Harry Potter has rights, Cornelius, just like you and I. He has the right to defend himself from harm, which is exactly what he did tonight. He has the right to a fair trial and he has the right to explain his actions before the Ministry comes pounding on his door to expel him from Hogwarts (which it cannot do) and destroy his wand. If you want Mr. Potter to be legally punished, then you are required to hold a trial. Is this what you want to do?"

A vein was pulsing around Fudge's jawline. He finally was able to say, "Yes, I do want him charged."

"Very well," said Albus calmly. "Please schedule a day and time, and please send him another letter updating him about his current status in regards to the Ministry and Hogwarts. I do not want him thinking he has been expelled, nor do I want him thinking his wand is about to be snapped in two."

Fudge looked at Hopkirk as if he was looking for her help. She just looked blankly back at him. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife.

"Very well!" Fudge snapped. "Please, Mafalda, could you –?"

"Definitely," she agreed faintly.

"Excellent," Albus said cheerfully. "Both of you have a good rest of your evening then. I shall see you soon again, I daresay."

_Protect him, teach him, and train him up until he is ready to face You-Know-Who on his own. You will have a large impact on shaping his life. Your connection to this boy is fate._

* * *

_Stuff I took from:_

1\. _Arabella Figg and Harry_: Mrs. Figg was to keep an eye on little Harry, but not say anything, on Dumbledore's orders (Order of the Phoenix, chapter 2, pg. 22 (US)). Personally, I like to think the Dursleys were persuaded by magic to befriend Mrs. Figg and leave Harry with her (like how Dumbledore gave Tom Riddle's orphanage an enchanted blank piece of paper that convinced them everything was "perfectly in order" for Dumbledore to take Riddle to his school), but that's just me.

2._ No other wizards/witches being allowed to live in Little Whinging_: During Harry's trial, Madam Bones said something very interesting that was never (to my knowledge) explained by JK Rowling. Madam Bones said: "We have no record of any witch or wizard living in Little Whinging other than Harry Potter. That situation has always been closely monitored, given... given past events" (Order of the Phoenix, chapter 8, pg. 143 (US)). Now when I was a kid reading OotP in 2003, that line made alarm bells go off in my mind, but this has not been explained. To me, that says this was "closely monitored" because there was some kind of threat to Harry's safety - some kind of "past event." I decided to take this little piece of canon and made it into an uncaught Death Eater going after Harry, but that's my own fabrication.

3._ Intentions and magic_: Harry_ really did_ survive because Lily was given the _option_ to stand aside, but she refused. Voldemort had _intended_ to let her live, and this is what made the difference. This is actually kind of mind-blowing, to me anyway. This came up in a previous fanfic of mine about Snape - how Harry lived because Snape had asked Voldemort to spare Lily, and Voldemort decided to agree. I had to dig in order to find this evidence, but I found it:

_JK Rowling: But [Voldemort] did offer [to let Lily live], you're absolutely right. Don't you want to ask me why James' death didn't protect Lily and Harry? There's your answer, you've just answered your own question, because she could have lived and chose to die. James was going to be killed anyway._ (2005)

Secondly, Dumbledore told Harry that when Harry meant/intended to let Voldemort kill him, that "made all the difference" (Deathly Hallows, chapter 35, pg. 708 (US)). Now, this makes a big difference to me. Whether Dumbledore's right or not, he certainly thought that Harry meaning to let Voldemort kill him might make a difference that would tip things in Harry's favor. This is why I think he didn't tell Snape that Harry would live another Killing Curse, because he didn't want Harry to know, because knowing might have magical consequences. It's no secret Dumbledore is a real cold bastard in The Prince's Tale, but I really do think he didn't tell Snape so Snape couldn't tell Harry he would maybe/probably live. Dumbledore was willing to come across as a real cold bastard, because he was keeping his cards close - keeping secrets - just like Aberforth said he's always done (Deathly Hallows, chapter 28, pg. 562 (US)).

Lastly, Dumbledore knew immediately that Voldemort using Harry's blood would probably keep Harry alive. We know this because there was a "gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore's eyes" when Harry told Dumbledore that Voldemort used his blood (Goblet of Fire, chapter 36, pg. 696 (US)).

4\. _Dumbledore's self-disgust_: Dumbledore really did hate himself and mistrust his judgment. In his own words, Dumbledore explained, "You cannot despise me more than I despise myself" (Deathly Hallows, chapter 35, pg. 715 (US)).


	3. Aberforth

_A/N: Oh crap guys, I think this is the most angsty thing I've ever written, which actually is unplanned of me, but here it is. As you can tell from the title of the chapter, this features Albus' relationship with Aberforth. Gellert makes, um, an appearance toward the end, but I'm saving him for later. There will be more Aberforth later, but for now, he is only interacting with Albus in this chapter. _

_One thing I noticed when reading other (many incredibly good) fanfics here is that some have "Aberforth" shortened into "Abe," while others say "Ab." I like Abe better, but according to the Deathly Hallows part 2 transcript, Neville refers to Aberforth as "Ab," so Ab it is here. _

_You have to remember, Aberforth is 3 years younger than Albus - he'd only be late 14-15 years old when their mother died. To loose one's mother so young; it had to be awful, and thus the angst. We don't see a lot of Aberforth in the books, but I've tried to write him as described. The stuff I took from to write his character is at the bottom.  
_

_One last thing: I did some research on homophobic language, and I found out that "queer" emerged in the late 19th century as a way to refer to gay people in a not-so-nice manner, so it at least fits the time-frame. Did they use the F bomb in England in the 1890s? I looked up the history of the word and it says it emerged in the late 1490s-early 1500s, so it definitely existed.  
_

**_HermyLuna2 - _**_Thanks so much! As fun as it is to go off on a tangent and write a completely AU story, I like to stick with canon, because JK Rowling's world is perfect just as it is! Plausible is a good thing; I like to show what we didn't see in the books that JK Rowling has already created. The slash is definitely going to be here... Gellert makes a brief appearance in this chapter at the end, but I'm saving him. I think the next chapter will be Gellert. If not the next chapter, he will definitely be second to next.  
_

**_Red Furry Demon -_**_ Thanks,__ I actually did go back and change the mistakes (editing the chapter was easier than I thought). I had a lot of mistakes in the previous chapter, like a lot, which is so frustrating because it's like they sneak their way in under an invisibility cloak and only show up the morning after I publish a new chapter. Don't be crying though, LOL. I have too noticed that a lot of Dark!Harry fics include Dumbledore bashing, so sad. I really do think the points I raised last chapter have been totally ignored/forgotten by so many fans and it makes me kinda mad. But I mean even Hermione stood up for Dumbledore in Deathly Hallows, and if the readers don't listen to Hermione, they sure as hell aren't going to listen to me... Honestly, Dumbledore is more of a tragic figure than anything else, IMO.  
_

_**Amy W. Key** \- Thanks so much, yeah, it's definitely a hard position for Dumbledore to be in. He knew like the fate of the entire world was relying on destroying the Horcruxes and Voldemort being killed. I think it killed him to put Harry in that position where he thought he was walking to his death...  
_

_**Aletta-Feather** \- Thank you, Dumbledore can definitely be seen as a God-like figure overseeing the full story, but he's also human like the rest of us. It's because he is so omniscient. I remember JK Rowling saying that Dumbledore knows "pretty much everything" about the Harry Potter universe. He knows everything about everybody, but nobody knows anything about his past! I also remember JK Rowling saying that Dumbledore is burdened with knowing, when he would rather not know. He does have to make some harsh decisions for the greater good, and I think he hates that about himself, yet he does it anyway. _

* * *

_**"Reality returned in the form of my rough, unlettered, and infinitely more admirable brother. I did not want to hear the truths he shouted at me."**_

**\- Albus Dumbledore, _Deathly Hallows_, pg. 717 (US)**

* * *

Sixteen-year-old Albus heard his bedroom door creak open, but he did not bother to look up to see who it was. He already knew who it would be. He continued to read over what he had just written as he sat crisscrossed upon his bed with parchment and books spread out all around him.

"Al, why don't you stop being supreme scholar of the Wizarding world and come downstairs to actually spend Christmas with our mother and sister?"

Albus did not meet his brother's gaze. Aberforth's tone had been light, but Albus knew better.

"I shall, in a short while," Albus muttered.

"I don't understand why you spend all your time hiding up here," Aberforth said. "We haven't seen them since September first. I mean, don't you care about them?"

Albus looked up at him hesitantly over his glasses. "Of course I do. I just really wanted to finish this before now; I really wanted this to be published at the end of next month, but now it doesn't appear like that will happen."

Aberforth just continued to look at him as if he was waiting for more.

"So I'm trying to finish it," added Albus lamely.

"That's it?" said Aberforth. "We both know you would be hiding up here even if you had finished whatever it is you're writing. It's very hurtful to the rest of our family. So why?"

Albus brought his left hand to his forehead. He didn't know how to tell Aberforth the truth – the truth that Albus felt guilty every time he looked at Ariana. He knew he should put aside what he was doing and go downstairs, but it was very difficult for him to do, and he knew that he would hate every minute of it. He loved his mother and sister, but it was not easy to sit there in the living room as Ariana struggled with herself every minute of every day. It made Albus feel very hollow and miserable on the inside. It was like visiting the bedside of a dying person. It was not easy to do. It was far too tempting to hide inside his bedroom and simply deny he was doing so in order to avoid being in the same room as his sister.

But before Albus could say those three words – I feel guilty – Aberforth said, "I don't understand you."

With that, his younger brother swept from the room, leaving Albus feeling even worse. _Get up_, Albus thought to himself. _Get up and follow him_. He couldn't summon the will to stand.

* * *

"Albus?"

_Oh shit_.

The suddenly completely adult seventeen-year-old Albus looked up from the book he was reading to see his newly-turned fifteen-year-old brother looking at him. Aberforth was looking anxious and he did not appear angry at all, but Albus did not let his hopes up. The only time Aberforth talked to Albus was when he wanted to fight with him. Albus figured that he must want something. Whatever it was Aberforth wanted, it was something that Albus was probably not going to give.

"Yes?" Albus asked, stopping himself just in time before he said, "What do you want?"

"I – I was wondering if I could have a little bit of money so that I can go visit with my friends this weekend."

Albus sighed. "No, Aberforth, I'm sorry," he said. "We simply do not have any spare money right now."

Aberforth's demeanor changed instantly and Albus braced himself for shouting and profanity.

"I see," said Aberforth angrily. "So it's fine for you to spend all your bloody spare time fucking Gellert's brains out and running around with him, but I can't take so much as a Knut for a weekend with my friends?"

"There are so many things wrong with what you just said," said Albus, firing up immediately as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Firstly, you have no right to talk to me with such foul language; secondly, I don't spend any money when I am with Gellert; thirdly, he is nothing but my friend –"

"Oh please!" shouted Aberforth. "I know you two queers are together and, _oh my God,_ is it _disgusting_!"

"We are nothing but friends and it doesn't matter anyway! The only reason you and I and Ariana aren't half-starved is because Mrs. Bagshot keeps feeding us! I can't give you money for you to run around with your friends when we're relying on the charity of others to keep us decently fed! It would be irresponsible. You can see your friends on September first when you go back to school!"

"I'm not even going back to school!" snarled Aberforth.

"You _are_ going back to school, even if I have to tie you to the Hogwarts Express myself! Don't think I wouldn't!"

"I hate you!" Aberforth shot with as much menace as he could. "You are absolutely disgusting and I'm ashamed to have a queer as my brother. I fucking hate you!"

"Yes, I know – you tell me every day how much you hate me –"

"It's _your_ fault!" screamed Aberforth, his voice cracking with the strain. "Everything is your fault, you good-for-nothing q-_queer_!"

Albus felt something in him snap and he heard himself shout, "_Stop calling me that!_" He hated how childish his voice had sounded.

"It's _your fault_ our father is dead!" Aberforth continued to scream at the top of his lungs. "It's _your fault_ Ariana's damaged; it's _your fault_ our father died in Azkaban; it's _your fault_ our mother is dead! You were supposed to be watching Ariana! If you had just done that, or better yet, if you didn't exist at all, our family would be whole and happy! It's your fault, you fucking _queer_, and _I hate you_! _I HATE YOU_!"

Albus could not even retort. The venom with which Aberforth was shouting was frightening. He had never seen Aberforth this angry, ever, so Albus simply stared. Aberforth quickly turned around and stormed from the room, his whole body shaking and his face furious. Albus stood there in silence, looking at the doorway in which Aberforth had disappeared.

Albus had never had it verbalized. His feelings of guilt regarding his sister's condition had always been unvoiced. But now here was Aberforth, confirming and solidifying Albus' role in Ariana's mental instability. It was his fault. But of course it was his fault. He was supposed to watch her and he didn't. Had he just watched his sister like he was told, those Muggles would never have gotten their hands on her... and his father would not have had to go after them... and Ariana would never have killed their mother. He imagined a world where Albus Dumbledore didn't exist. His father, mother, brother, and sister would all be alive and well and happy...

_You've done enough, Albus_. Those were his father's lasts words to him when Albus had tried to go with him to hunt down the Muggles._ You've done enough_.

* * *

Albus had slept for a solid thirteen hours straight. Working fourteen hours in a single shift the day previously had not agreed with him at all. He had hoped Gellert would be there right when he woke – in the kitchen, perhaps, arguing with Aberforth for sport like he always did, but he wasn't. Albus assumed he was asleep at Bathilda's. Gellert liked to stay up late sometimes.

So Albus sat up in his bed and read, trying to find any inkling of a reference to the Hallows. It was tedious work; perhaps only one out of a thousand pages had a potential reference and most of these potential references were either wrong or dead-ends.

About an hour later, Aberforth came bouncing into his room, looking positively delighted.

"What is it?" Albus said warily.

Aberforth beamed. His dark auburn hair was a little unkempt. "Guess what your best friend was doing last night."

Albus continued to stare at the page in his book, but he was no longer reading. When it was clear that Albus was not going to prompt him, Aberforth continued anyway.

"Gellert apparently got _really_ drunk at the bar and he slept with Emily. Or, at least, he and Emily left the bar together after kissing for like fifteen minutes straight, but if you ask me, they _definitely_ slept together."

Albus blinked and gave his brother a sharp look. "What are you talking about? Emily who?"

Aberforth sighed exasperatedly. Albus couldn't remember a time when he had last seen Aberforth this happy.

"Emily, Albus, Emily the _girl in town who sleeps with anyone_," he said impatiently, as if he thought Albus should already know. "This is why I like bars and alcohol. Everyone shows their true nature there."

Albus frowned. "You shouldn't refer to any woman as 'a girl who sleeps with everyone.'"

"Whatever," Aberforth said roughly. "Point is, your friend is not interested in you. A little alcohol later - or a lot, rather - and bam, looks like he's normal. He likes women. Here I thought you two were up in this room fucking each other senseless every day, and really, he likes women! Haha! What do you have to say about that?"

"Nothing," said Albus promptly. "It's none of my business what he does in that, uh, function, and nor do I care."

"Liar," Aberforth said maliciously, his eyes glinting. "I know you and Gellert are planning on changing the world and all these delusions. I know you're smitten with him. Wake the fuck up. The man bloody doesn't want you. You can't send me off to school September first and leave Godric's Hollow. Your life is here. _He doesn't want you_."

Albus blinked again and tried to ignore the hurt and anger that was welling up inside of him. "Shut up, Aberforth. Please leave me alone. I'm trying to read."

Aberforth did as he was told, for once. He left Albus alone. Albus stared at the page he had been reading for a long time, and he tried to read, but he wasn't taking the words in. He would reach the end of the paragraph and not remember what it had been about.

Eventually, the hurt seized his insides too hard and he couldn't think. Albus threw the book across the room. It hit the wall and he dissolved into silent tears.

He had tried to deny it for so long.

* * *

It was a Saturday morning and Albus did not have to go to work. Instead, he was lying on his left side in his bed, facing Gellert. Both of the young men were sweaty and still breathing hard and anyone over the age of nine could've told you exactly what they had just been doing. But just as Albus closed his eyes and came closer into Gellert's arms, his bedroom door burst open.

Both Albus and Gellert froze.

"Albus, get up – it's Ariana – she's upset and I can't calm her down – please! Get up – get up –"

Albus had never heard his brother sound this scared before and, given the fact that he had chosen not to comment on the scene he had walked into, Albus knew this was serious.

"All right," Albus rasped, and as soon as he moved to get up, he heard Aberforth go running back down the hallway.

Albus got dressed as quickly as possible and grabbed his wand off the nightstand.

"Do you want me to help?" asked Gellert, sounding almost bored.

"No, stay," Albus said shortly before he went hurrying after Aberforth, speeding down the steps and into the kitchen.

Ariana was sitting on the kitchen floor, crying. Magic had already come exploding out of her. Everything that was easily breakable – the window, glasses, plates, even the milk jug – had been shattered and was now in pieces. Aberforth was holding her hand and was trying to get her to look at him, but she refused to open her eyes. She was moaning, "_Please don't let them hurt me_."

Albus raised his wand and did the only thing he thought he could do – that he didn't want to do – but did it anyway. He stunned her. The crying stopped and she fell gently onto her side, completely unconscious.

Neither brother spoke.

Albus had seen this before. He had seen one of Ariana's fits before, but the last time he had seen one was before Ariana had accidentally killed their mother. Their mother's body had been broken, just like the windows, the plates, the glasses…. It was different now. They had never seen Ariana as dangerous, but that had all changed.

Aberforth stirred. He picked up Ariana and held her unconscious form in his arms. Then he wordlessly picked their little sister up – Albus saw him struggle a bit to hold her weight – and placed her onto the sofa in the living room. Albus followed after him silently. Both watched her sleep for a long moment.

"She won't remember," Albus said finally. "When she wakes up, I don't think she'll remember any of this."

Aberforth nodded. Then Albus suddenly remembered what Aberforth had seen when he walked into Albus' room. Albus prepared himself for taunting, or yelling, or insulting, but he could not find the strength to walk away. Aberforth would say what he wanted to say sooner or later anyway, so it might as well be now.

"Listen, Albus…" Aberforth said quietly, not looking at him.

Albus waited for the name-calling and expletives to begin.

"I'm telling you this because you're my brother," Aberforth said finally. "I care about you. And I'm telling you that I don't trust Gellert. There's something… off about him. There's something not right about him. I think you're making a big mistake and I'm worried about what might happen to you. I don't like him."

Well, that's _not_ what Albus had been expecting. After a moment of being taken-aback, Albus then scoffed. "You only don't like him because he's a man. If he was a woman, you would be totally fine with it. You just hate that I'm homosexual."

"That's not true."

Albus laughed coldly. "Odd, I seem to remember you saying that you hated me because I'm a disgusting queer. You've told me dozens of times, in fact – screamed it."

Aberforth finally looked at him directly, his expression serious. "Listen, okay, I know – I know I've been quite mean to you about it, and I've called you all kinds of horrible names, and I'm sorry for that, Albus. _I'm sorry_. I don't hate you, and it's not right for me to do, but I'm just – I'm so _angry_."

The honesty in his brother's voice threw Albus off for a moment and he stared.

"I'm so angry that our parents are gone," Aberforth went on feverishly, "I'm so angry that our father died in prison over those Muggles; I'm angry that those Muggles made Ariana unstable; I'm angry that Ariana is still suffering because of them; I'm angry that you and I are only fifteen and eighteen –" he took in a deep breath. "I'm angry. And I'm hurt. And I channel all that anger toward you, because you're the only outlet I have."

Albus felt his jaw slacken, but he managed to not let his jaw drop completely. There were tears glittering in Aberforth's eyes. Albus hadn't seen him cry since before Albus went off to Hogwarts.

"I'm fifteen years old and I lost our mother. I forget that you've lost her too. What happens if I go off to Hogwarts and then I find out Ariana's accidentally killed you too? I don't hate you, Albus, I don't hate you at all; you're the only brother I have, and you're the only brother I'm going to ever have; I don't –" but Aberforth's voice cut off here, as if his throat had been closed against his will.

Albus bolted forward and put his arms around Aberforth. Aberforth put his arms around Albus as well, not as tall as his older brother, but still growing. He rested his head on Albus' shoulder and cried, his shoulders shaking.

"It's all right," Albus murmured. "It's all right."

Albus saw clearly for this first time how stupid he had been. He should have seen through Aberforth's verbal attacks and name-calling. He was fifteen years old and he was now an orphan. His attacks on Albus had not been because Albus was homosexual; he attacked him because he was the only one Aberforth had left besides a mentally damaged sister. Aberforth was young, and hurt, and angry. He certainly was not going to take his anger out on Ariana. No, Aberforth was channeling his anger through Albus. He should not have taken Aberforth's taunting, insulting, and fighting personally. He was a hurt kid lashing out at the only person he could because he was in pain. Even a dog in pain is going to bite if someone gets close to it.

"I'm sorry, Ab," said Albus quietly. "I'm sorry – no," he said when Aberforth made a sound of protest, "I've messed up too. I should've known everything you just told me, but I didn't. I haven't been insightful or mature. I should've realized how much you're hurting."

Aberforth pulled away and sniffled, his skin flushed, his eyes red and watery. "I –" he stammered, "I'm not enthused that you're… different, but I'm telling you this because I care about you. I don't trust Gellert and I think something bad is going to happen someday."

Albus knew better than to argue, even though he disagreed. "I hear what you're saying," he said, affectionately brushing a strand of hair off his brother's forehead, "and I thank you for telling me this. Really, I do. Everything you just told me is honest. I love you and I promise things are going to be different between you and me. I can't be our mother or father, but I can be your older brother, and I'm going to try to be the best one I can be."

Aberforth nodded, not looking at Albus.

"Let's allow Ariana to sleep a while longer," Albus said quietly. "She is peaceful for now. She will wake up on her own, when she is ready."

Aberforth nodded again. Then he awkwardly walked away and back into the kitchen. Albus looked into the direction his brother had disappeared for a moment before straightening up and going back upstairs to Gellert.

It was odd. Aberforth had taunted him about being homosexual since Gellert came along, yet Aberforth had never walked in on Albus and Gellert together doing anything. Aberforth had called Albus a disgusting queer since before Albus admitted to himself that he had feelings for Gellert. Yet now that Aberforth had seen solid proof that Albus was indeed romantically involved with Gellert... Aberforth had not taunted him at all. They had even had a mature discussion...

* * *

Albus did not even put up a fight. He was only dimly aware that a handful of people were watching the whole scene.

"It's all your fault, Albus, God damn you!" Aberforth shouted. He was standing before Albus, who was still sitting in his seat. Up until this point, Aberforth had remained quiet, but it seemed like the grief and righteous anger in Aberforth had reached its boiling point.

Albus felt himself stand up so that he was taller than Aberforth. He tried to say something, but all of his words died on his lips before he could say them.

"It's your fault Ariana's dead!" Aberforth went on, his fists balled and tears in his eyes.

"Now, Ab," Bathilda Bagshot had risen to her feet behind Albus,"come now, come take a walk with me, let's talk about this - this isn't the time or place."

"Why won't you say something?" Aberforth screamed at his brother, completely ignoring Bathilda.

But Albus didn't. He couldn't. He watched Aberforth raise his right fist and Albus closed his eyes. He felt his nose break and the blood flowed down his face, all over his lips and chin. He heard people cry out. Albus opened his eyes in time to see Aberforth storming away. Albus swayed where he stood for a moment and then walked away too, ignoring the people who were speaking to him - telling him to stay. Albus walked back home. He didn't even mend his nose. It was the last time Aberforth would say anything to him for forty-six years.

* * *

Here's what we've heard about Aberforth:

1\. "Aberforth was never bookish and, unlike Albus, preferred to settle arguments by dueling rather than through reasoned discussion" (Elphias Doge, Deathly Hallows, pg. 18 (US)).

2\. "'He were a head case, that Aberforth,' says Enid Smeek, whose family lived on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow at that time. 'Ran wild. 'Course, with his mum and dad gone you'd have felt sorry for him, only he kept chucking goat dung at my head. I don't think Albus was fussed about him, I never saw them together, anyway'" (Deathly Hallows, pg. 354 (US)).

3\. "Aberforth blamed Albus, you know, as people will under these dreadful circumstances. But Aberforth always talked a little madly, poor boy" (Bathilda Bagshot, Deathly Hallows, pg. 358 (US)).

4\. "I was left the responsibility of a damaged sister and a wayward brother" (Albus Dumbledore, Deathly Hallows, pg. 716 (US)).

5\. The quote found at the beginning.

And here's what we heard about Ariana's funeral:

6\. "'Didn't Aberforth break Albus's nose halfway through the service? ... Bathilda described the whole thing to Mother while I was listening at the door. A coffin-side brawl! The way Bathilda told it, Aberforth shouted that it was all Albus's fault that Ariana was dead and then punched him in the face. According to Bathilda, Albus did not even defend himself, and that's odd enough in itself, Albus could have destroyed Aberforth in a duel with both hands tied behind his back.'" (Muriel, Deathly Hallows, pg. 153 (US)).


	4. Unplanned

_A/N:I know I haven't updated in a while. I'm going to start an internship for college soon and I want to get this finished!  
_

_Okay, you know what, I don't think anyone realized just how much Albus was trying to take care of his brother and sister after their mother was killed. He could have said, "Nope, sorry, Ab, but you're going to an orphanage/you're own your own and Ariana, you're going to St. Mungo's for the rest of your life." But he didn't do that. He tried! We know they had little money and Albus was stuck trying to put food on the table, so I like to think Albus was stuck into some horrible job close to home just to keep them fed. _

_This chapter is absolutely important I think, because I'm setting the stage for Gellert (next chapter). Here, Albus is vulnerable, which makes him an easy target for someone like Gellert Grindelwald… How difficult do you think it would be for an evil person like Gellert to prey upon a gullible, lonely, parentless, and infatuated teenage boy? Pretty damn easy, IMO. _

_The title of this fanfic emerges here and for good reason. This chapter is actually sort of personal to me and I think anyone who has left school and gone out into the world can relate a bit to Albus here. Can you imagine going from being such a promising genius ready to see the world to being a working poor teenager who has to take care of his insane sister? "Trapped and wasted" talent was how Dumbledore described his situation. Trapped and wasted talent indeed._

_**HermyLuna2**: Was it confusing? Ah, I thought about adding dates to the scenes so it was clearer, but I removed them. The scenes are in sequential order and they are meant to be snapshots. I'm sorry it was harder to follow. About Albus and Gellert – I know, that is one of the things that just kills me because JK Rowling kind of left us hanging. Some fans believe that Albus harbored feelings for Gellert, but it was never revealed, while other fans think they were having sex like bunnies. I know it is not going to be everyone's cup of tea, but oh well. I've read what JK Rowling has said on the Albus/Gellert matter and I really, really do think she hints they were together, but not because Gellert actually returned feelings for Albus. I knew it was a bit of a risk to drop the bomb that they were together without explaining how it got to that point, but I decided to go ahead with it…. I'm trying to make the Albus and Gellert relationship completely believable, trust me. Next chapter I'm going to try to make it all work. _

_**Red Furry Demon** – Thank you! Yeah, I do always try to slip in a comic relief moment. If I can pull it off, I am going to make Gellert be really funny. That probably sounds weird because he was one of the most evil wizards in history, but I'm going to try to make it work. I was definitely trying to get the Aberforth and Albus relationship right, and I think it was a dysfunctional relationship. I do think they loved each other, but neither Albus nor Aberforth every truly got over what happened. Aberforth certainly spoke angrily about his brother in Deathly Hallows, so yeah, I don't their relationship was ever truly mended. _

* * *

**"Have you ever done that, when you squint your eyes and your eyelashes make it look a little not right, and when just enough light comes from just the right side and you find _you're not who you're supposed to be?_ This is not what you're supposed to see ... the situation's becoming dire, my tree house is on fire and for some reason I smell gas on my hands. This is not what I had planned. _This is not what I had planned._****"**

**\- _Twenty One Pilots_, "Forest"**

**"By the end of his first year he would never again be known as the son of a Muggle-hater, but as nothing more or less than the most brilliant student ever seen at the school. ... Dumbledore's future career seemed likely to be meteoric, and the only question that remained was when he would become Minister of Magic." **

**\- Elphias Doge, _Deathly Hallows_, pg. 17 (US)**

**"'Not Albus, he was always up in his bedroom when he was home, reading his books and counting his prizes, keeping up with his correspondence with 'the most notable magical names of the day,' Aberforth sneered. '_He_ didn't want to be bothered with her. ... Bit of a comedown for Mr. Brilliant, there's no prizes for looking after your half-mad sister, stopping her blowing up the house every other day. But he did all right for a few weeks... till [Grindelwald] came."**

**\- Aberforth Dumbledore, _Deathly Hallows_, pg. 567 (US)**

* * *

September 1892

It did not take long for everyone to realize that eleven-year-old Albus was very talented with a wand.

During his first ever Transfiguration lesson (this was the class Albus was looking forward to the most), the first years were given the simple task of trying to turn a match into a needle, which was, to say the least, quite unexciting. Albus watched his teacher, Professor Davis, a small woman with straight blonde hair, wave her wand and clearly say the incantation. Professor Davis held up what had been a match, but was now clearly silver. It glinted in the light.

"Now, this will not be easy for you all," said Professor Davis, "but that is completely normal. Keep trying. When any of you are successful, if anyone is successful by the end of the class today, please raise your hand…. Go on, give it as many tries as you can."

Albus heard his classmates muttering the incantation around him. Elphias, who was sitting to his left tried the spell, but there was no effect.

Albus raised his wand the way Professor Davis had and he said the incantation once. The match immediately turned into a shiny, silver needle. He smiled and raised his hand.

Elphias looked over at him in surprise and said, "Was that really just a match?"

Professor Davis was looking over at Albus in surprise. She came over to his side and stared at the needle.

"You managed to do this on your first attempt?" she said incredulously.

Albus nodded.

"It's Albus Dumbledore, isn't it?"

He nodded again. He became dimly aware that everyone in the room was looking at him and it made him feel anxious.

Professor Davis reached into her pocket and pulled out another match. She placed it before Albus.

"Try it again," she said. "I would like to see."

He waved his wand again and the match became a needle. He looked up at her expectantly, as if his eyes were asking, "Did I do it correctly?"

Professor Davis smiled widely. "Incredible," she said. "Incredible. I think that deserves twenty points for Gryffindor. Well done, Mr. Dumbledore. I have never seen in all my years a first attempt be successful."

Albus felt himself blushing and he did not know what to say, nor did he really know what to do with himself now. Elphias was getting frustrated trying and Albus found himself trying to teach him how to do it. Yet despite the fact that Elphias was doing everything he could correctly, it still was not working like it had with Albus. It did not make sense to him. If Elphias did everything correctly, identically the same as Albus had, why was it Elphias' match did not immediately turn into a needle? By the end of the period, the match was pointy at the end, but it was still more of a match than a needle.

Albus found himself successful in all his classes. If a teacher gave him an incantation, he did it successfully on the first try. All of his teachers and even his peers were in awe of him. He didn't really know what to make of it. He had always considered himself to be intelligent because he loved to read, but he had never thought that he would be a powerful wizard. He found himself successfully going through the Standard Book of Spells of all volumes in private. He did not want to show off, but he did want to master every spell in the textbooks, merely to see if he could.

* * *

December 1892

It was four days before the students were to board the Hogwarts train and go home for Christmas when first-year Albus ran into his headmaster, Professor Corwin. He had literally walked into him because Albus wasn't watching where he was going and he had turned a corner too quickly.

"I'm sorry, sir!" Albus said squeakily. "I – I wasn't minding where I was going –"

"Don't worry, my boy, don't worry!" Professor Corwin said kindly. "You are the famous Mr. Albus Dumbledore, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, but I am not sure about being famous."

Professor Corwin smiled. "Is it true you've already mastered every single spell in The Standard Book of Spells intended for our seventh years?"

"Well, some of them are still difficult, sir," said Albus meekly.

"Are you liking Hogwarts, even though you might as well graduate tomorrow?"

"I don't want to graduate early," said Albus at once. "I love Hogwarts. It is as if I want to be buried here."

At that, Professor Corwin laughed before waving Albus off and wishing him a Merry Christmas.

* * *

June 1899

His mother's death had been gruesome. Shell-shocked and grief-stricken, Albus was presented with a choice he never thought he would have to make. He could either take care of his family or he could let his younger brother go into an orphanage while Ariana would surely end up in St. Mungo's. He chose to be the head of the family at the age of seventeen.

He needed a job – fast. He found a dreadful Muggle position at a store. He was to move boxes and put products on "the floor" in the early morning, plus do whatever boring tasks were needed at the time. When he told Aberforth where he had gotten a job and what he would be doing, Aberforth had laughed.

"Bit of a comedown for a genius such as yourself, isn't it?" Aberforth had sneered. "Moving boxes. Albus Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards in all of the United Kingdom, working in a Muggle job moving boxes. When are you going to find the time to write to Flamel and be the most dazzling, brilliant know-it-all of the century? You won't last a week."

But Albus had lasted. He lasted because he had to, but he still was not making enough money.

One day, he was five minutes late to his 7:00 AM shift due to Aberforth. They had started fighting with one another and Ariana became upset, so then both Albus and Aberforth had to calm her down. Once Ariana had stopped crying, Albus looked at the clock to see he was going to be late in three minutes. He dashed from the house looking like a complete madman.

"You're late," his boss, Mr. Trent, said coldly as soon as Albus was through the door.

"I'm sorry, sir," Albus said immediately, breathing so hard his ribs hurt. "I - I had to - take care of my sister -"

But Mr. Trent did not seem to care. "The last time someone was late, I fired them."

"No, please, sir, I'm not trying to make excuses, I'm just -"

"Don't think I can't replace you," snapped Mr. Trent. "What do you think you are, special or something? I could give your position to someone else who wouldn't ever be late in about ten minutes. You are what is called cheap and unskilled labor, Dumbledore. You'd better learn that quick. And don't go blaming me for your poor life choices. Maybe you should've stayed in school and learned how to read and write, then you'd be less replaceable. If you're late again, I'll give your job to someone else, because there are thousands of unskilled yous out there looking for money."

Mr. Trent walked away leaving Albus rooted to his spot. Albus stood frozen in horror with his mouth hanging open, but try as hard as he could, he could not pick his jaw up off the floor.

Mark and Luke, two teenage coworkers of Albus, came through the backroom doors carrying boxes.

"You feeling all right, Albus?" asked Mark as he put down the boxes and wiped sweat off his forehead. Like Albus, Mark was also a teenager trying to make ends meet, though Albus didn't really know the details into his situation.

"I'm all right," Albus agreed faintly.

"Nah, you aren't," Mark said simply. "You look miserable."

Albus exhaled slowly and said more to himself than anyone, "This is not what I had planned. This is not what I had planned at all. This isn't the life I wanted for myself. I'm not who I'm supposed to be. This isn't who I am."

Both Mark and Luke burst out laughing, much to Albus' annoyance.

"Oh, Al," said Mark, his smile wide, "now you're truly one of us. Cheer up though, you'll be dead someday, and then you won't have to work here."

Albus did not reply. He simply went into the back room and set about opening boxes with a box cutter, tears in his eyes. He felt so hurt and tired. _I am a failure_, he thought as the tears threatened to spill. He thought about his Hogwarts professors and his headmaster. They had all had such high hopes for him.

"You will be successful no matter what you do career-wise after Hogwarts, Albus," Professor Davis had said to him fondly once in his sixth year. "I cannot wait to see what you make of yourself. I know I will hear about you."

Albus felt tears fall as he tried to cry in the most discreet way possible. What would his former Transfiguration professor say if she knew where he was now? The powerful, talented, and once so promising Albus Dumbledore was moving boxes in a store. He tried to tell himself that the Muggle position was only temporary, but Albus knew better. He had wanted to become a Hogwarts teacher. He could never be a Hogwarts professor because he had to take care of Ariana. He could not leave her alone for extended periods of time. He doubted he could even work in the Ministry. He could not, in good conscience, ever hand the responsibility of Ariana over to Aberforth, because Aberforth was not even mediocre in his magical skills. Aberforth could not handle her turbulent power on his own.

Albus briefly imagined someone who knew him from Hogwarts coming into the store in which Albus worked. _'Oh, hello Albus!_' they would say. '_What on earth are you doing here? What do you mean you work here?_'

The brilliant Albus Dumbledore, inventor of the twelve uses of dragon blood, stocking random junk on shelves for a living with no end in sight. He could practically see Professor Davis' face falling with disappointment.

* * *

June 1899

Bathilda Bagshot was both a blessing and a curse. Albus had gotten home from work late, exhausted. It was a mixed blessing when the doorbell rang and Albus opened it to find her standing there with food – real food. Albus and Aberforth had decided to put shredded cheese in between two pieces of bread and call it "supper." The lasagna Mrs. Bagshot was holding looked much better.

Aberforth hastily grabbed Ariana's hand and led her to her room just as Mrs. Bagshot was coming through the door.

"Mrs. Bagshot, truly, you do not have to do this for us," Albus heard himself saying, as he took the large container of food from her hands.

"Don't be silly!" exclaimed Mrs. Bagshot. "I am only feeding myself and my nephew; it only makes sense to give some leftovers to you! Actually, Albus, I wanted to tell you that I would love it for you to meet my nephew sometime tomorrow or the next day you have off work," Mrs. Bagshot babbled happily. "He is your age and he is very, very intelligent and talented like yourself; I think you two boys would get along beautifully."

"Oh," said Albus faintly, not caring about meeting his neighbor's nephew at all. "Of course. I would like that, Mrs. Bagshot," he lied.

"Lovely!" Mrs. Bagshot said happily. "Next time – perhaps tomorrow."

"Yes," Albus heard himself say. His eyes were burning and he felt, to his horror, tears in his eyes. He couldn't tell if he was actually crying or if his eyes were only watering from all the fatigued burning.

Mrs. Bagshot tilted her head. "Are you all right, Albus?"

Albus swayed a bit. He tried to say, "I'm fine," but when he opened his mouth, he only made a little noise and then tears started streaming down his face.

"Oh, Albus," Mrs. Bagshot said sympathetically. She put her right hand on his shoulder. "It's all right. You're simply exhausted. Everything is going to be okay. You are a good elder brother to Aberforth and Ariana, and I know you are trying the best you can. It will be all right, in time."

Albus nodded numbly, his head hanging a bit, eyes cast downward. He felt so awkward, standing there in his living room, holding warm lasagna and crying for no specific reason whatsoever in front of his eccentric neighbor. He wanted to curl up somewhere and sleep so badly.

They stood this way for a long moment before Mrs. Bagshot finally said, "Well, go ahead and eat, Albus. Then get some sleep. Sleep in as long as you need, yes?"

Albus nodded again. "How can I ever thank –"

"You do not need to," Mrs. Bagshot said firmly. "Merely stop by tomorrow to meet Gellert, all right? Good."

Albus cried himself to sleep that night, as he did often nowadays. He knew he was too immature for all the responsibilities placed upon his shoulders and he was completely alone. He was so alone it hurt. The voices inside of him taunted him, telling him that he was going to be lonely for the rest of his life. He was going to be stuck taking care of Ariana until either she killed him or she died. He loved his sister, but he was such a poor caregiver - it did not fit him right. He hated himself for being so selfish, for wishing he did not have to care for her. His parents would be so ashamed of how poor of a job Albus was doing taking care of his siblings. He knew he was being so selfish, but he couldn't help but know that all that potential that he had once possessed had disappeared overnight.

_It's your fault,_ his demons screamed before he fell asleep. _It's all your fault in the first place. You did this to Ariana. You did this to Aberforth. You did this to yourself. _

From the moment Albus and Gellert Grindelwald made eye contact for the first time, Albus really didn't stand a chance.

* * *

_A/N: Yay, Gellert is next._


	5. Gellert

_A/N: I see a lot of people adding this and my other fanfics to their favorites and even adding me as a favorite "author" and I'm actually kind of pleasantly surprised. You all aren't saying much, but you're out there reading, and I appreciate that. I like each review too!  
_

_This chapter focuses on funny Gellert, kind Gellert, but also manipulative Gellert. It goes in sequential order. Some of this chapter sort of even brinks on crackfic moments. The real dark stuff is later. I'm going to try not to turn this into an essay, but I feel like I've got to give my evidence as to why I think this is how it went. You can find this evidence at the bottom!_

_Please also note, I had to delete reviews per someone's request, so if you're scratching your head wondering where some of them went, that is what happened to them, and rest assured I haven't been deleting reviews randomly! I thank you all for the reviews!  
_

_I did, once again, take stuff from Twenty One Pilots._

_Lastly, Aberforth is bluffing in this chapter, but Albus never finds out if he's telling the truth about Evelyn or not.  
_

_**mangoarcher1802** \- Hi there, you're right, Harry did think Gellert had a Fred and Georgish air to him. Honestly, IMO, I like to think of Gellert as looking like the ultimate package on the outside, but being so evil inside. I like to think of him as brilliant, good-looking, outgoing, spontaneous, and very funny... but on the inside... evil. That is what makes him scarier than Voldemort. Voldemort was always completely cold and uncaring socially - he operated alone, never had a friend. His psycho tendencies were easier to spot. But Gellert - he appears great, but he's evil, which makes him (to me) more sinister than Voldemort. _

_**Red Furry Demon** \- Haha, yeah, young Dumbledore is a bit of a Gary Stu. I probably do idealize him too much, but I have to feel bad for the guy. Child/teenage Albus is kind of a walking contradiction. I see him as amazingly powerful and talented, but he's also horribly gullible and foolish. He has messed up, but I feel for the guy. He is the perfectly idealized imperfect person. Am I making sense? Yeah, maybe not. He's a complicated but innately good guy; however, that doesn't mean he hasn't done some very bad things. There's going to be a whole chapter about Dumbledore's darkness. Oh and about Bathilda - I picture her to be very nice, but also kind of off too. Like almost clueless, in a way. She's a bit more clueless here... or maybe she isn't clueless at all, but she's just pretending to be. There is one brief scene in this chapter you've already read in the other fanfic of mine, so I'm sorry for the repeat here!  
_

* * *

**"Dumbledore, who was the great defender of love, and who sincerely believed that love was the greatest, most powerful force in the universe, was himself made a fool by love. That, to me, was the interesting point. That, in his youth, he was – he became infatuated with a man who was almost his dark twin. He was as brilliant. He was morally bankrupt. And Dumbledore lost his moral compass. He wanted to believe that Grindelwald was what he wanted him to be, which I think is what particularly a young person's love tends to do. We fill in the blanks in the beloved's personality with the virtues we would like them to have. So Dumbledore was wrong about his judgment and was entirely – was very suspect in that time. And of course it was more than being infatuated. Grindelwald appeared to be offering him a solution to this horrible dilemma. Dumbledore was not cut out, to his shame, to be a carer. He was cut out to go out on the world stage and be a brilliant man. He knows this about himself and he's ashamed of it."**

**-_ JK Rowling, 2007_**

* * *

The first thing Albus learned about Gellert Grindelwald was that he was completely... unorthodox? Unconventional? Unpredictable? Albus didn't really know the right word, but Gellert was nothing like he had ever seen before.

It was very early in the morning - only ten minutes past six. Aberforth and Ariana were still asleep. Albus was on the way to visit his mother's grave because it was the only time of the day he could do so without Aberforth knowing. He had barely stepped outside of his garden when Bathilda pounced on him and talked a mile a minute, telling him that he had to wait right there, that she was going to go find Gellert, that Gellert was brilliant and his age, that Gellert had attended Durmstang but spoke English fluently, and before Albus could get a word in, Bathilda had dashed back into her house. Albus stood there awkwardly in the morning sunlight. He wasn't expecting much when it came to Gellert. He closed his eyes and wished he was still in bed.

The door swung open again and Albus found a blond young man walking toward him. Albus found himself frozen for some reason.

Bathilda quickly opened her mouth and began to speak, but Gellert cut over her.

"You're the Albus Dumbledore that writes for _Transfiguration Today_?" said Bathilda's nephew. It was more of a statement than a question.

Albus felt like his brain wasn't working properly. First, Bathilda had just told him Gellert had attended Durmstang, yet Gellert spoke as if he was born and raised in England. Secondly, Albus was prepared for the conventional introductions and polite small talk, not such a to-the-point conversation. Thirdly, Gellert seemed so sure of himself and intelligent that Albus found himself feeling like a complete idiot in comparison.

"I am," Albus finally managed.

Gellert scowled. "Well, what the hell are you doing here then?"

"I..." said Albus, feeling stumped.

"Well," said Bathilda, sounding a bit annoyed that she hadn't been able to give the introductions, "you boys don't need me. Good day."

Albus watched her walk back into the house. He had wanted to say something, but he didn't know what, and by the time he had decided to tell her 'thanks, you too,' she had already closed the door. He looked over at Gellert. Gellert was watching him and Albus felt his face heating up.

"I live here," Albus said finally.

Gellert grinned. "Correct, I know you do. I'm asking you why. You should be seeing the world, working with today's most brilliant minds, not living next door to Bathilda Bagshot in a small town."

"Oh... well, I have to take care of my younger brother and sister, because our parents are dead."

Gellert's eyebrows came closer together. "So you're obligated?"

"Yes," Albus said, "that's the perfect word exactly."

* * *

"If we found the Stone," Gellert said in that perfect British accent, "we could bring your parents back. We could bring anyone back."

They were sitting outside in the graveyard, right at Kendra Dumbledore's tombstone. Albus searched Gellert's medium-blue eyes for any inkling of doubt. He could not find one. It appeared Gellert really did believe the Resurrection Stone existed and that they had any chance of finding it.

"I would love that," Albus finally admitted. "I - I miss my mother. I know Ariana misses her terribly. She doesn't truly understand that she's gone. She cries for her at night sometimes." Albus closed his eyes. "My mother was such a better caretaker for her. She worked so hard to keep Ariana happy and healthy. She did not deserve to die the way she did."

Albus reopened his eyes to see Gellert nodding with sympathy.

"My father though," continued Albus, "is the trickier one. Do not misunderstand me. I love my father and I missed him very dearly after he was locked away in Azkaban. I merely... I do not know if he would approve of me. I do not know if he would forgive me for my role in Ariana's illness and for my poor job at caring for her and Aberforth. He might be ashamed of me. He might strongly dislike me."

"I think he would forgive you," Gellert said, "and he certainly would not be ashamed of you. You were only ten when it happened and you're his first born. He'd forgive you." Then Gellert frowned slightly. "Unfortunately though, the Stone is more difficult to find. It is much easier to find the Elder Wand, with all the killing and backstabbing it leads to. However, I think we can find the Stone. I think we can find them all, Albus. It is possible and you and I would make an incredible team. Then we can bring them back for you, your brother, and your sister."

Gellert smiled and Albus felt himself smiling back, hardly daring to believe.

* * *

"Who the hell are you?"

Gellert was sitting on the sofa. He looked over at the teenager who had just walked into the living room. The boy looking at him looked like he was fourteen or fifteen and he looked a lot like Albus. This must be Aberforth.

Slowly, Gellert raised his hands and said, "Listen, kid, I don't want to hurt you or anything, but I need you to empty out your pockets and give me all of your money."

Aberforth looked scared. "No, please, sir, I don't have any money, I'm only fifteen - don't -"

Gellert laughed. "I'm only fucking with you, kid," he said, grinning. "I'm your brother's friend; I'm just waiting for him to change."

Aberforth's mouth fell open a bit and Gellert could easily see he had not been given his brother's brains. Then Aberforth closed his mouth and swept from the room, looking rather red in the face.

* * *

Albus was crying silently. It was very early. The sun had finally risen properly, but an early morning chill was still in the air. He was sitting before his mother's grave as the sun warmed his back from behind. Albus knew that all graves faced the east. The idea was that someday, all of the souls would be taken up to heaven with the rising sun, or something like that. Albus was not particularly religious. He didn't know if he believed in the afterlife or not.

Albus then heard someone walking behind him. He turned his head to see Gellert. Gellert sat down beside him and put his arms around him.

"Gellert, what -?"

"Shut up," said Gellert.

And Albus did so. He leaned his head against Gellert's shoulder and closed his eyes.

* * *

Albus was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that four teenagers living (well, Gellert didn't technically live here, but he might as well) in the same house without an older adult was not a good idea. There was a lot of fighting and a lot of cursing. Normally, Albus could take Aberforth calling him a disgusting queer, but he was definitely not okay with it if Gellert was around.

Aberforth was shouting at Albus. This time, they were arguing about Ariana.

"And you don't even give a shit about her," Aberforth snarled, "because you're too busy being a queer with your 'best friend' to even notice her!"

"Shut up," Albus said in a hushed and desperate tone. "He's upstairs, stop, Ab, we'll talk about it later -"

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT IF GRINDELWALD HEARS ME CALLING YOU A QUEER!" Aberforth exploded as Albus cringed. "YOU _ARE_ A FUCKING QUEER!"

"Please, Ab, stop -"

"Oh, Aberforth," said a man's voice behind Albus.

Albus turned in horror to see Gellert standing at the foot of the stairs. Gellert was shaking his head with an utmost serious expression on his face.

"What the hell do you want?" Aberforth sneered at him.

"I want to help you," said Gellert seriously. "Listen, Ab, I think you really need to discuss your feelings with someone. You can't keep bottling things up forever and taking it out on Albus."

Both Albus and Aberforth stared at him, completely confused. Both brothers had an identical look on their faces and they looked more alike than ever. It appeared like Gellert was truly concerned about Aberforth's mental state.

"I know that you've been having a hard time controlling your emotions, Ab," Gellert continued gravely, "but it is to be expected. I know it is hard for you to accept this turn of events. But listen: I want to help you. However, I can only help you if you are honest to yourself about your feelings."

Aberforth continued to gape.

Gellert sighed heavily before continuing, "You need to come to terms with your sexuality, Ab."

"I'm not a fucking homosexual!" Aberforth shouted.

Gellert looked agitated. "Yes, Ab, I know that. Even Albus here knows that. You are attracted only to your goats. I know it must be hard admitting it, but we all know it's the truth."

Albus realized his mouth had been slightly open. He closed it now and stared at the stairway railing as he tried not to laugh.

"I'm not attracted to my damn goats!" Aberforth exclaimed, his face turning red.

Gellert sighed again. "Yes, you are, and listen... you need to act on your feelings. But before you do, you need to ask yourself some important questions... such as... how long have you known the goat?"

Albus was finding it increasingly difficult to keep a straight face.

"Has there," continued Gellert, "has there always been like a... like a _tension_ between you and the goat?"

Albus couldn't hold it in any longer. He burst out laughing and he laughed until his sides hurt.

"Fuck you!" Aberforth screamed. "I like women! You both are insane, disgusting -"

"We need to work through your denial, child," Gellert said. "I'll believe that you like female goats, but human females, impossible."

"I LIKE HUMAN GIRLS!"

But Gellert only shook his head sadly.

Aberforth stormed from the room, looking angrier than Albus had ever seen him. Albus laughed until it hurt too much to keep doing so. Then he remembered Gellert had heard Aberforth calling him a queer and he felt uncomfortable, maybe even a little scared. What if Gellert believed Albus _was_ a queer?

"You really do need to stop taking your dear brother so seriously," Gellert said, looking completely relaxed and indifferent. "He's actually quite easy to get rid of. Just flip the tables on him and accuse him of something such as being sexually attracted to his goats." Then Gellert frowned to himself. "Well, at least I hope he isn't actually attracted to goats, but no matter. You've got to beat him at his own game. I don't know why you never retaliate."

"You only made him even more angry, though," said Albus.

"Yeah, but look who is left here in the room. You and me." Gellert spread his arms, palms up. "Aberforth ran off and we're still here."

He had a point, but Albus was becoming increasingly uncomfortable still at the thought of Gellert thinking he was homosexual, even though it seemed Gellert did not care one way or the other. Gellert was looking at him though, waiting for him to say something. Albus thought about trying to change the subject, but what could he say? Or would it be better to try to convince Gellert that he was not a queer? That might seem too forced and desperate. He couldn't stand the thought of Gellert thinking he was homosexual when he actually was not.

"It's nice out," Albus heard himself eventually say. "Outside, I mean. The weather." Albus was very aware that Gellert was simply continuing to stare. "It's sunny," finished Albus lamely. He was mortified and he knew he was blushing. He thought by speaking, he would make things better, but he had only made things a thousand times more awkward.

"I don't know," said Gellert easily. "It seems kind of hot to me."

Albus became, if possible, even redder. Even though Gellert had said it in an innocent and casual tone, Albus could not help but wonder if Gellert was making some kind of... suggestion.

"Wait, look," said Gellert. "It appears he is back for more."

Albus turned to see Aberforth storming back into the kitchen.

"Just so you know," Aberforth shouted at Gellert, "I do like human girls. You can even go ask Evelyn Ericson. I slept with her the last week of school this past June."

"You did WHAT?" shrieked Albus, but Aberforth was already out of the room.

Gellert only laughed loudly.

"It's not funny!" shouted Albus. "Gellert, it's not funny at all! What if he's being serious?"

Gellert rolled his eyes. "Who cares? He's probably not, but I really am not interested in what he does."

"He can't be sleeping with people when he's fifteen - no, he would've been only fourteen at the time - he can't bloody do that! I'm not cut out for this," Albus lamented, wringing his hands, looking quite distressed. "I can't do this at all. I mean, I always knew Ab was a little wayward, a bit hard to control, gets into occasional mischief, has a dirty mouth, but never, never - oh God."

Gellert frowned at him. "Albus, you need to calm down. It doesn't matter."

"You do - you do know that - that that leads to babies, right? What am I going to do if bloody Evelyn Ericson winds up on my doorstep one day with a baby?"

"Aberforth is a big boy," Gellert waved dismissively at him. "He'll have to take care of it, then."

"But he's fifteen! It's going to fall onto me!"

"You didn't hold Aberforth's hand when he was making the baby that probably doesn't exist, did you?" Gellert said coldly. "You don't have to hold his hand while he's taking care of it either. He'll have to do it. But honestly, I think he's lying. Honestly, there's no way any girl is going to do that with him, unless she's very ugly, anyway, or blind... Is Evelyn Ericson very ugly or blind?"

But Albus could only put his face in his hands and groan.

* * *

"When do you turn eighteen?"

Albus looked up from his book and blinked at Gellert for a moment. _Random_. They both had been reading silently for half an hour. Both had been looking for references to the Deathly Hallows and both had been unsuccessful.

"August second," Albus replied.

Gellert looked thoughtful. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"I don't know," lied Albus finally, though he did not admit to himself that he was lying to himself. "When do you turn eighteen?"

"We have got a while before that happens," said Gellert. "December twenty-first."

"The winter solstice," Albus announced.

"Yeah," agreed Gellert. "Yeah. It was a dark day in history when I was born."

"Right," Albus said, his heart pumping a little harder than usual for some reason. "And... what do you want for _your_ birthday?"

Gellert looked at Albus with a slight frown. "I don't know," he echoed, sounding a bit annoyed. Then he inexplicably went back to reading and Albus eventually did the same.

* * *

It was the iciest silence Albus had ever had with Gellert.

Albus' expression was cold and hard. It made him nauseated to know that Gellert had spent the night with some random promiscuous girl. He was done trying to pretend he didn't have feelings for Gellert. He was positive he did. He was done with Gellert altogether. How could he go parading around the world with someone he had feelings for who didn't have any feelings back for him? It would be self-abuse of the highest order to do so. Albus had tried denying his feelings, but it wasn't working anymore, not now that he knew Gellert had been with some girl. He felt hurt, very hurt, and he didn't want to continue to feel hurt for the rest of his life. It would be so painful to always be around someone he had feelings for who felt nothing in return for him. Albus didn't know exactly when Gellert had crept into his heart, but he had. Albus _was_ homosexual - Aberforth had been right, but the way he saw it, no one would ever have to know... and Gellert could go sleeping with every random girl he fancied all across the globe for the rest of his life.

Gellert looked thoroughly confused. His head was pounding as he tried to decipher the emotion Albus was feeling, but he found it was impossible. Albus was as indifferent and as distant as ever. Whatever it was, Gellert was sure it had something to do with Aberforth. That stupid boy had said _something _to turn Albus away from him and all their plans.

"It's not that I don't want to help you find the Hallows," Albus was saying. His eyes were not fixed on Gellert's medium-blue eyes, but rather, the top of the blond's head. "It's just I'm trapped here, Gellert. I can't leave."

"But –" Gellert spluttered, "but – what has happened to you, Albus? We agreed that you would be able to take Ariana with us! She likes me! She would be fine! You were totally on board with this yesterday! What's changed?"

Albus shrugged coldly, looking bored.

They were standing outside of Albus' house, in the garden. Though still slightly suffering from a hang-over, Gellert looked far too good-looking with his smokey eyes and messy blond hair. Albus looked tired and he felt tired. He felt like he had aged ten years in one day.

"We all have to grow up someday, Gellert," Albus said finally. "Now it's my turn. My life is here with my family. I wish you the best of luck. Maybe you will be the first to unite the Deathly Hallows someday."

Albus turned on his heel and went back into the house. Silent sobs were making his shoulders shake, but he had not let Gellert see the tears, and he hid the tears from Aberforth as he hurried through the kitchen, through the living room, and upstairs to his room, where he cried some more. Then he fell asleep.

As Albus slept, Gellert walked through the town, wracking his brains. He did not understand. This was not the same Albus Dumbledore as he had been a day previously. What had changed? Had Aberforth finally gotten to him and convinced him that he could not take Ariana along? He must have.

_Damn that boy_, Gellert thought angrily. _Damn that stupid, little, goat-loving boy_.

_Shit_. His pawn was gone. Gellert knew he, by himself, was just as powerful as Albus, and that it would be difficult for anyone to stop him, but if he had his own powers plus Albus' on his side… they would be truly unstoppable. Albus was perfect – powerful, highly intelligent, skilled, young, and so easily manipulated. And yet now he wasn't cooperating. This was not a part of Gellert's plan. Of course, he had always planned that he would change the world by himself, but Albus had been like an unexpected dream come true. Albus Dumbledore was like an Elder Wand all himself – the fourth Deathly Hallow. Gellert couldn't let him get away without a fight. If he lost Albus, if he lost his fourth Deathly Hallow, then that Deathly Hallow might come back one day to stop him.

Though the sun had set, Gellert still had a faint headache that wouldn't let go. He was _really_ drunk last night. Had he said something to Albus last night that he didn't remember? He could not remember going over to Albus' house. He remembered that Albus had worked a very long shift, and that he said he wanted to just sleep, so Gellert had left and gone out drinking because he felt reckless. Had he returned to Albus' house? He didn't _think_ he had, but at the same time, there were periods of time he couldn't remember. He had blacked out.

Gellert almost ran into a pretty teenage girl.

"Sorry," he grumbled absentmindedly.

"Sorry," she said as well.

Gellert stopped dead in his tracks. A girl. There had been a girl. He had slept with a girl last night – a girl with red hair. Wait, oh shit, was that Albus? _No, it wasn't Albus_, he snapped at himself internally, too agitated to see the humor in his situation. _Albus might have long red hair, but damn, I'd know the difference. Think_, he thought. _Think_. His head pounded in protest as he stood there in silence in the middle of the sidewalk, chewing his lip, trying to remember.

Gellert and this girl had walked into a secluded field and had sex, and when Gellert woke that morning, she was already gone. He had been confused when he awoke in the middle of a golden field early that afternoon, but then he had laughed and took this to mean he had had a great night, even though he couldn't exactly remember it…. But never mind, this girl, this girl….

The girl had had a lot of friends at the bar. When Gellert had so brazenly/drunkenly gone up to her, her friends started giggling and eventually walked away… so there were plenty of witnesses that saw Gellert leave with her. What was that stupid girl's name?

Oh, but it didn't matter. A girl. He had slept with a girl.

And Albus…

It all clicked in his head. It all fit. Gellert had thought Aberforth was only name-calling for the fun of it!

Oh _this_… this made sense…. He could take advantage of this, exploit this. He almost laughed.

With a smile that was almost manic, Gellert turned around and went hurrying back to Albus' house. He had to play his part well, because the Greater Good now relied on it...

Albus was not exactly in a state of complacent sleep, but he was unconscious and his brain was dreaming in a racing fashion. In his dream, Fallon was wearing a wedding dress and Albus was trying to explain to her that he couldn't marry her because he wanted only Gellert. Then dream Aberforth appeared and Fallon asked him to marry her instead, and then Albus had to explain that Aberforth couldn't marry her either because Aberforth was only attracted to goats. He was spared from the rest of this awful dream when he heard a loud bang coming from downstairs. He jumped up and grabbed his wand. Had he really heard that?

There were shouts coming from downstairs. It was real. Afraid there was some intruder in the house, Albus hurried downstairs, wand gripped tightly in his hand.

The scene he found was confusing. Aberforth was shouting at Gellert and Gellert was telling Aberforth to "fuck off." Then Gellert looked over to Albus and practically ran for him.

"Come upstairs with me," Gellert said huskily. "Come on, I need to talk to you –"

Albus sighed, his sluggish brain starting to work again. "Gellert –"

But Gellert grabbed Albus by the hand and led him upstairs, leaving a fuming Aberforth behind.

Gellert only let go of Albus' hand when they were both in the room. Gellert flicked his wand. Albus' door closed and Albus heard the lock click. Wordlessly, Albus stood there, staring at his friend, who was breathing hard.

"So," Gellert panted. "You're telling me you won't be joining me in the quest for the Hallows. Is that what you're telling me?"

Albus sighed again. "Oh Gellert, it's not that I don't want to, but I –"

"Fine," said Gellert. He looked flushed and there was a fire in his eyes. "Fine. Is this your final answer?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

He had barely finished speaking before Gellert quickly said, "Then there is something I need to know before I leave Godric's Hollow for good, Albus."

Albus nodded. He leaned up against the wall, waiting, looking uncertain.

Gellert looked at Albus for a long moment. Then he moved in closer to Albus, frowning slightly in concentration. Gellert's eyes went from looking at Albus' neck to looking up at his lips. He saw Albus swallow nervously. It was now or never. Albus was either going to push him away or he wasn't. But at this point, with Albus no longer planning on joining Gellert, Gellert had nothing to lose.

Gellert slowly closed the space between them. He put a hand on Albus' shoulder. He heard Albus stop breathing. Gellert leaned in and pressed his lips against Albus'.

Albus was quite certain that he was dreaming. Gellert's lips were soft and perfect. Everything that he hadn't felt when Andrea kissed him in sixth year, everything he was supposed to feel, suddenly sprang into him. The desire, the lightheadedness, the sense of electricity – it was all there, like other people had described. This is what a kiss is meant to feel like.

Albus took in a sharp breath and then kissed Gellert back. He wrapped his arms around Gellert, his right hand going to the back of Gellert's neck. He took a fistful of Gellert's golden hair and tried to gain some kind of semblance of control of himself, but was unsuccessful. He was delirious. When Gellert's tongue slid up against his own, Albus actually shivered. Then he broke the kiss.

When Gellert felt Albus shiver, he knew he had him – hook, line, and sinker.

But Albus was looking at him, flushed. "I – Gellert, I don't –" he stuttered. "I don't want to be a – a queer –"

Gellert laughed, looking as if he was quite enjoying himself. "Sorry, Albus, but you were kissing me back, rather vigorously, so there's no going back now." He licked his lips and then grinned mischievously. "Didn't you know it isn't queer if you say 'good game' after?"

"I –" said Albus, his face hot as fire. "What –" He couldn't speak. He may be a genius, powerful, talented, and so on, but in this arena, he was struck dumb.

But Gellert only pushed himself back against Albus and started kissing his neck. Albus gasped and little moans escaped from his mouth. Albus did not recognize this part of himself. At all. He had lost his head completely.

"You –" Albus said breathlessly as he tried to focus on what he wanted to say. Gellert was kissing his collarbone. "You – I thought – Ab told me you slept with some girl –"

"Yes, yes," Gellert said dismissively. He straightened himself and looked at Albus. "Well, I'm actually bisexual. I've known that for a long time. I am attracted to both genders."

Albus tried to digest this.

"But you should know," Gellert said vehemently, "that the girl last night meant nothing. Nothing, Albus. I was drunk, so drunk that I had forgotten about it, until recently. I don't even know her name. You, on the other hand," he breathed, "I have feelings for. Very strong feelings."

Gellert straightened out Albus' collar for a moment, gently rearranging his robes.

"I was just scared," Gellert invented, "of ruining our friendship. I was scared you wouldn't have feelings for me. I thought you did though. And I was right. You do."

Gellert smiled and complimented himself internally on how good of an actor he was.

"Truthfully?" whispered Albus.

"Truthfully," lied Gellert.

* * *

"Gellert!" Ariana exclaimed happily. She was sitting at the small and dingy kitchen table with nail polish of all different colors spread out in front of her. "Come sit with me!"

Gellert stopped. He was going to go straight to Albus' room, but he knew he probably was not home. Gellert had let himself in and Ariana was getting very used to him being around. At first, Gellert knew she had been nervous around him, but now Ariana liked him almost as much as she liked Aberforth…. Gellert grinned and immediately sat down perpendicular to her.

"Hello, Ariana. Are you painting your nails?"

"Yeah," Ariana said brightly. It was so odd at times like this. She was almost normal, but there was something very innocent about her – something you would expect from a seven-year-old.

"Where's Albus?" Gellert asked as he watched her rearranging all the nail polish.

"Not home yet," she chirped.

Gellert was not surprised. He had roughly twenty minutes to kill until Albus' return from work.

"Can I do your nails?" Ariana was saying, "Aberforth won't let me do his. He said no."

"Of course," said Gellert immediately. "What color should I get?"

As Ariana carefully scrutinized all of the colors, Aberforth entered the kitchen. He saw Gellert and scowled.

"Excuse me," Aberforth said to Gellert coldly, "but you don't live here."

Gellert ignored him.

"Let's do pink," said Ariana finally.

"Oh, I don't know, Ariana," Gellert said, but he was smiling. "Can't we choose like a more masculine color?"

Aberforth scoffed as he closed the pantry door. "Pink is a fitting color for you," he said with malice. "You have sex with men."

But Gellert only smiled more widely, quite enjoying himself. "Oh yes, that's right. Thanks, Aberforth, I forgot. Pink it is."

Ariana gave a little giggle and Gellert wasn't sure if she was laughing because she understood the dialogue or just because she was happy.

Aberforth wrinkled his nose in disgust as Ariana began to paint Gellert's fingernails with great care. Gellert noticed that the nail polish was drying unnaturally fast – almost the second Ariana lifted the brush away. Ariana's magic was slipping through without her notice.

"You're revolting," Aberforth announced.

Gellert's smile was gone, but not because he was angry.

"Listen, Ab," he said seriously, "I think you need to go outside and tell that special goat exactly how you feel." He had a very calm and elegant air about him for a man who was having his nails painted pink.

"I don't fuck goats," Aberforth snapped.

"I never said you _do_; I'm saying that you _want_ to."

"No, I don't!" Aberforth said, his hands balling into fists.

"Don't lie, Ab. I saw you eying up that one goat with the white mark on his face the other day. Now just go out there and do what you have to do."

There was a vein pulsing on Aberforth's temple. He was so easy to anger and Gellert liked doing it very much.

"You think you're so damn clever," Aberforth said loudly and spitefully, "but really you're just a good-for-nothing, disgusting queer. I mean _really_ disgusting. You and my brother, sitting up in his room all day and night doing whatever revolting things to each other – makes me _sick_!"

"At least Albus is a human," said Gellert. "But listen: I'll help you, Aberforth. Now, before you go outside and have sex with that goat -"

"God damn you!" Aberforth shouted.

Ariana suddenly brought her hands to her ears and shouted, "SSSSTTTTOOOPPPP!"

Both Gellert and Aberforth fell silent.

"It's all right, Ariana," Gellert said softly. "Aberforth is just a little sexually frustrated, that's all."

Face red, fists balled, Aberforth stormed from the room, just like Gellert knew he would. He always did; it was so easy.

By the time Albus got home ten minutes later, Gellert and Ariana were sitting on the couch reading a book.

"Gellert, why are your nails –?"

"Not now, Albus!" said Gellert with a look of utmost concentration, holding up a hand. "I'm in the middle of an important plot twist."

Albus grumbled something and went to his room to change out of his Muggle clothes. Gellert followed after a couple minutes.

"Aberforth wouldn't let Ariana paint his nails," Gellert muttered before giving Albus a light kiss.

"Not surprising, but pink?" Albus said with a smile. "Pink?"

"It's my favorite color," Gellert said with a straight face.

Albus couldn't even tell if Gellert was kidding or not. It was impossible to know for sure with him. So instead, Albus just put his arms around him and deepened the kiss.

"You're not actually going to walk around with pink fingernails, are you?" whispered Albus.

"No, of course not," said Gellert. He raised his wand and the nail polish disappeared.

* * *

"Where have you been all night, Gellert?" Bathilda's said.

Gellert looked over his shoulder at her. It was ten minutes past four o'clock in the morning. Bathilda was standing in the hallway in her bathrobe and pajamas. She was holding a cup of coffee and Gellert couldn't understand why anyone would ever wake up at four o'clock in the morning by choice.

"I've been discussing the International Warlock Convention of 1289 with Albus all night," said Gellert with a straight face.

"Oh, that's nice," said Bathilda vaguely as she turned to walk back down toward the kitchen.

Gellert grinned to himself as he made his way to his bed. Still, he thought to himself tiredly, more discussion about the Hallows and their future plans would have actually been better. It was becoming increasingly difficult to get Albus to focus on what mattered. Gellert was pretending to be infatuated in order to get Albus to stick with their plans, but now Albus was caring less and less about the Hallows, and more about spending time doing other things. Albus didn't really seem like he wanted to find the Hallows or overthrow the Statute of Secrecy. Instead, he just wanted to be with Gellert. This wasn't a good thing. Gellert knew he needed to find a way to get Albus focused on their plans.

Frowning slightly, Gellert collapsed into his bed and fell asleep.

* * *

**_Here's the Stuff:_**

_I've literally collected everything JK Rowling has ever said about Albus/Gellert. She revealed the matter in 2008 and was rather vague about it, but she also talked about it again in 2010, after the Deathly Hallows book madness died down. Well, I definitely 100% believe that they were together, but not because Gellert actually had feelings back. _

1\. 'In the seventh book — he has, what I think a child would read as an intense friendship, a friendship through which he is lead astray, but which for me was always an infatuation. But Dumbledore meets this handsome, his dark twin in a sense, and he's a very charismatic, brilliant young man. And whether or not that relationship was physically consummated or not I think is irrelevant, it's actually about love. And I think that the sensitive, maybe sophisticated adult reader could see that Dumbledore, who had been a very, you know, a very moral student, a model student up to that point, who goes so wildly off the rail suddenly, to think "yeah, genocide, that'll work!" You know — what did he feel for this person? Well, as for me, it's a step beyond friendship.** And I think that a person of Grindelwald's type would have exploited that being as it is**.' - JK Rowling, 2008

_I love JK Rowling talks as if they're real people and she doesn't really know the answers. She does that a lot about Albus/Gellert. "I _think_ he would have," it's brilliant. But anyway, that last sentence gets me. She thinks he would have exploited it. Okay, well, we don't know if Gellert ever knew, or how much he did "exploit it," but that really makes me think he knew and he in fact _did_ exploit Albus. Even if we take this as meaning Gellert had no idea (but I think he did), we at least know that _if_ he did know... he'd exploit it.  
_

2\. 'I think [Grindelwald] was a user and a narcissist and **I think that he would use it, would use the infatuation**. I don't think he would reciprocate in that way, although he would be as dazzled by Dumbledore as Dumbledore was by him, because he would see in Dumbledore, 'My God, I never knew there was someone as brilliant as me, as talented as me, as powerful as me. Together, we are unstoppable!' **So I think he would take anything from Dumbledore to have him on his side.**' - JK Rowling 2010

_Woah, second time she said Gellert would use it, but he didn't really reciprocate. I know that a lot of people like the idea that Gellert had feelings back for Albus way deep down in his heart of hearts, but unfortunately, JK Rowling is saying no. And then she says that Gellert would have done anything to have Albus on his side. To me personally, that sounds like Gellert knew about Albus' feelings and he used it in order to make Albus do what Gellert wanted him to do, which was join him and stay with him. I think Gellert pretended to have feelings back, but he didn't, and I think Albus was young, foolish, vulnerable, gullible, isolated, unhappy, smitten, and feeling trapped. I don't think it would have been exactly hard for Gellert to use him._

3\. "'Yes, even after they'd spent all day in discussion - both such brilliant young boys, they got on like a cauldron on fire - I'd sometimes hear an owl tapping at Gellert's bedroom window, delivering a letter from Albus! An idea would have struck him, and he had to let Gellert know immediately!'" - Bathilda Bagshot, Deathly Hallows, pg. 356 (US)

_This makes me giggle; it's probably one of the most incriminating evidence you can find in the novel that points to something greater than friendship. 'Cauldron on fire,' yeah, that's pretty suspicious, but 'spent all day in discussion' is kind of too. Discussion, yes, right.  
_

4\. _There's also another quote I read, I thought it was on The Leaky Cauldron, but I have not been successful in finding it, so I'm thinking the article was deleted or something and it hasn't survived. JK Rowling was saying something like, "Did they sleep together? I really don't know." and the article said she 'peered into her teacup as if the answer was in there' or something along those lines. It's been years since I saw it; if anyone can find it, I'd be surprised.  
_

_End note: I looked up the history of nail polish and it has been around for a while, though it was not nearly as popular at this time than today... but it existed then!_


	6. Harry (Again)

_A/N: Hey everyone! After the crazy last chapter, I think it's time to ground things once again, so I've come back to Harry. The next chapter is going to be Gellert again, but it's going to be dark, not fun. This chapter isn't fun either. Seems like I'm establishing a pattern where chapters are either lighthearted or super angsty. I hope that I'm doing an okay job at portraying Dumbledore. I think teenage Albus and Harry Potter era Albus are two very different people, and I hope that's coming through. But I see Harry Potter era Albus as someone who still carries scars and self-hatred from a long time ago. He never got over summer 1899._

_You might also notice that this chapter is again called "Harry (Again)" Just like Red Furry Demon predicted, the chapter titles are going to be repeats. I'm doing this because I want it to be easy for people to jump to the topic they like. I know some of you are reading for Albus and Gellert interactions, and I know others are reading for Albus and Harry interactions. Others are reading for everything. So yeah, you can easily find what you want, I hope. There's Snape in this chapter, but it is Dumbledore's relationship with Harry that is the focus here, not Snape, so Harry (Again) is the title.  
_

_**mangoarcher1802** \- Oh, I definitely think Gellert had respect for Albus. He knew how powerful Albus was. But I like to think he did not truly have respect for him until Albus turned against him. I think Gellert fled Godric's Hollow after Ariana's death because he was a bit afraid of Dumbledore at that point. It was the first time Albus was a potential threat to him. As for why Gellert lied to Voldemort - I think it was for multiple reasons. I think Gellert for one hated Voldemort and his movement; they might both be considered dark wizards, but Gellert is way different than Voldemort. I also think Gellert had come to regret the things he had done, both to the world at large and to Albus. But this took place in the 1990s after Gellert had been sitting in a cell since 1945. At the time Gellert was - er - friends with Albus, I don't think he cared about Albus at all, really. He had a lot of time to sit around and think about what he'd done. _

_**Red Furry Demon** \- Nooooo, not Not Quite Utopia, noo. I am very glad you like my writing, but I doubt anyone could like NQU. The scene I was referring to was really brief and it was from Stay Alive, when Gellert meets Aberforth and tricks him into thinking he's robbing him. As for Hell Hath No Fury, LMAO, no, I had not read it, but it's hilarious. I love the way she tied canon into it, even though it's totally messed up. I think Aberforth and his goats are just a hilarious running joke that never gets old. Whether or not it's true, I don't know, but I hope it's not, and I think Albus would agree with me! _

* * *

**"Dumbledore keeps a distance between himself and others through humor, a certain detachment and a frivolity of manner. ... Terrible to be Dumbledore, really, by the end he must have thought it would be quite nice to check out and just hope that everything works well." **

**\- JK Rowling, 2010**

**'And Dumbledore** **had known that Harry would not duck out, that he would keep going to the end, even though it was _his_ end, because he had taken trouble to get to know him, hadn't he? Dumbledore knew, as Voldemort knew, that Harry would not let anyone else die for him now that he had discovered it was in his power to stop it.'**

**\- _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, pg. 693 (US)**

* * *

Albus didn't really know what to expect from Harry Potter. Harry had eventually stumbled out of his office and retreated into the Gryffindor Common Room where he stayed, refusing to attend the end-of-the-year feast. Albus did not think this was a good sign.

One of the many amazing things about Harry was his resilience. Albus had admired it time and time again. He was more resilient than Albus himself ever was. Harry had endured emotional abuse from the Dursleys, yet he had bounced back and turned out to be a polite, normal boy. Harry had learned the truth about his identity and went from being a nobody to a celebrity whose parents were murdered by an evil dark wizard, yet he bounced back and let neither his fame nor his parents' murders get to his head too much. Harry became fixated with the Mirror of Erised and Albus knew he had to take the mirror away. Harry had not brooded over the loss of the mirror; he bounced back. He faced Voldemort, bounced back. He faced Tom Riddle, bounced back. He suffered from hearing his parents being murdered when he came into contact with dementors, he bounced back. He failed to reveal his godfather's innocence, but he bounced back. Fighting dragons, merpeople, and the anti-Potter movement throughout the school during the Triwizard Tournament? Bounced right back. Fought being slandered by Rita Skeeter? Bounced back. (On a side note, Albus was one of the few who immediately knew that Harry was not going around crying over his parents like Skeeter claimed. This wasn't because Harry didn't love his parents, of course, it was only because it wasn't in his nature to go around crying over the past.)

But things changed after Voldemort came back. Fifteen-year-old Harry Potter was different. He wasn't able to bounce back like he had in the past. In place of Harry's hopeful innocence had emerged an angry, reckless teenager. He wasn't the same after Voldemort's return and now his godfather, the closest thing he had ever had to a parent, was dead too.

So who was Harry now?

Albus didn't know what Harry was going to be like when he saw him next. He worried that Harry was going to be deeply troubled. Albus didn't really know how to fix it. He knew the next time he sees Harry, Harry might be angry, depressed, suicidal even... or he might encounter a Harry who had bounced back and was as strong as ever. Albus simply didn't know. He was a bit scared, to be honest. Albus had never been good at comforting anyone. He had never been very skilled at being in the emotional arena. Albus was a thinker; he belonged in the world of academics and books and newspapers. Harry was emotional and he felt each and every emotion deeply. Sure, Albus completely loved Harry to death, but he wasn't exactly good at saying that. A large part of him wanted to run to Privet Drive, beat down the Dursleys' door, and tell Harry that it wasn't his fault, that he was loved... but Albus unfortunately did no such thing. He kept his distance from everyone and he was as detached as possible. Albus knew everything personal about everybody, but nobody knew anything personal about him.

Harry was stronger than he because Harry did not - could not - shy away from emotion. That's why Harry could not master Occlumency. Albus had mastered Occlumency because he could avoid feeling. Harry couldn't. Normally, Harry dealt with matters astonishingly well... but there's only so much one person can take before he cracks. Harry's emotional nature might be his self-destruction. So yes, Albus was pretty worried about Harry right now. How much could Harry take without jumping off the deep end if he wasn't already there? What was Albus going to do if he found Harry in a complete mess? Damned if Albus knew. That night that Sirius died... Albus had told Harry "I know how you are feeling." Harry became infuriated. That wasn't really Albus' intention. He had meant to comfort Harry, but instead, Harry demolished his office. Granted, it had at least gotten Harry talking, which Albus was trying to achieve, but it did not unfold the way he had planned. Albus was not cut out to help someone, even when he desperately wanted to.

It wasn't the first time Harry had worried him. Albus actually worried about Harry a lot, but this time was different somehow. He was scared that he had hurt Harry too deeply this time.

Albus had been called to the Ministry of Magic shortly after it was announced Rufus Scrimgeour would replace Fudge as Minister. He did not exactly like the Ministry, but he was not rude enough to refuse discussion with the new Minister. He walked out of the elevator door and rounded a few corners before he found himself in front of Scrimgeour, who was sitting at the desk that had just been Fudge's a short while ago.

Scrimgeour jumped to his feet and extended his hand. "Professor Dumbledore, thank you for coming -"

"You are no longer a student, Rufus, please call me Albus," he said as he shook Scrimgeour's hand. Albus had this conversation with everyone.

"Of course," said Scrimgeour with a smile. "Please sit down."

Albus did so and Scrimgeour sat across from him. Albus waited for him to speak.

"We're very disadvantaged," Scrimgeour finally said. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has gotten a head start of an entire year, something that you worked tirelessly to stop from happening. I do not blame you if you have little faith in the Ministry. We haven't exactly been intelligent this past year."

"It is all water under the bridge," said Albus. He was not encouraged that Scrimgeour had not called Voldemort by his name. 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' was only a fancier way to cover up the fact the speaker was afraid to say 'Voldemort.' Nevertheless, Albus continued, "It doesn't matter what happened these past months. Certainly, the best time to begin to battle Voldemort was a year ago, but the next best time is now. The Ministry is full of capable witches and wizards. If you can unite everyone to work together, then I do not doubt the Ministry has a fighting chance."

"Yes," agreed Scrimgeour with a sigh. "I hope you are right. This actually brings me to my point in wanting to meet with you. Your Order of the Phoenix and Harry Potter... I think we need to all work together, to all stand alongside each other."

"The Order is its own separate entity," Albus said calmly. "It does not become involved in the Ministry because the Ministry is prone to infiltration and corruption. However, we have always respected the Auror department. Whenever we can, we hand matters over to the Auror department after our work is done, but we do not plan together. I hope you can understand why this is. Unfortunately, I am afraid there either already is or soon will be spies in the Ministry, and if we involve the Ministry in our secret plans, we may very likely be handing information over to Voldemort inadvertently. The Order largely keeps to itself to protect itself. Also, Harry Potter is neither a part of the Order nor a part of the Ministry, and I intend for this to stay this way. The only person I intend Harry Potter to work with is me."

Scrimgeour gave him a very hard look. "I heard Potter wants to become an Auror."

"And I am sure he will be an excellent one someday once Voldemort is gone, but for now, he is not. He is still underage and he is still a student."

"Albus, I would like to meet with Potter."

"No," said Albus sharply. He gave no further explanation. Just that infuriating "no" that he gave people sometimes.

"He is a big boy, Albus," Scrimgeour said. "He should be able to decide what he wants to do and who he wants to work with."

"You aren't working with Harry," Albus said, feeling himself getting slightly impatient. "You only want to use him just as Fudge had planned. You only want him to be popping in and out of the Ministry to make it seem like the Ministry has the famous Harry Potter working with it. I will not let you use Harry in that way. He has dealt with enough. He doesn't need you using his name and fame for your selfish benefit."

"Selfish!" Scrimgeour said. "I am not being selfish - this is for the good of all wizards everywhere! Now, Potter wants to become an Auror and we could very easily arrange that in exchange for his assistance. I want to speak with him."

"Rufus, it is not happening," Albus said, his voice calm but strong. He was not exactly enthused that his first meeting with Scrimgeour was becoming an argument. "Accept this straightaway so we can move on."

Scrimgeour switched tactics. "Why was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the Ministry in June?"

"Why does Voldemort do anything?" said Albus offhandedly. "He was here because he thought he could gain something by doing so."

"And what was that? What did Potter have to do with any of it?"

"I'm afraid that is confidential, Rufus. The Order does not want the Ministry to know that, and since you are a part of the Ministry, I cannot tell you."

Scrimgeour fixed Albus with a glare. "All right then, was there a prophecy about Potter in the Hall of Prophecy?"

"I'm afraid that is also confidential," said Albus lightly. "Though the Hall of Prophecy, along with the entire Department of Mysteries, is, in fact, a part of the Ministry. Did you try asking the Unspeakables?"

Scrimgeour's expression was stony. "I did try asking the Unspeakables. They denied the very existence of the Hall of Prophecy. I told them I know it exists and then they got into an argument with me, telling me that no one can ever truly know if anything exists or not."

Albus laughed. He had already known the Unspeakables would say something like this because that is the kind of peculiar people they are, but it still amused him greatly to hear Scrimgeour's answer. Scrimgeour did not laugh with him.

"Well, that sounds like something the Unspeakables would say. Better luck next time, perhaps."

"Is Potter the Chosen One?" asked Scrimgeour sharply, clearly not amused.

"Is that what he's being called these days?" asked Albus, his voice still light. "I suppose the Boy Who Lived does get old after a while."

"You know what I mean, Albus. Is he the only one that has any chance of killing He-Who-Must-Not-"

"My dear man, I have no idea," Albus lied. "I do not work in the Hall of Prophecy."

Scrimgeour was getting very impatient now. "I want to speak to Potter," he said slowly, weighing his words, as if doing so would scare Albus.

"No," Albus said again.

"Don't you think Potter is old enough to make his own decisions in regards to who he wants to speak with?" Scrimgeour said, sounding quite angry now.

"Harry is a very vulnerable being," said Albus calmly. "I need to keep him away from people who would only do him harm, including you. You are not going to bribe him, lie to him, and use him. It is not happening."

"Oh I see," said Scrimgeour, his face being flushed in anger. "So you think you are _protecting_ him, is that it?"

"Certainly," replied Albus calmly.

"Well," Scrimgeour said nastily, "it seems you haven't always done a very good job doing that, have you? Why start now?"

Everything screeched to a halt in Albus' brain. He was no longer amused. This had all been so much fun up until now. The room seemed to have dropped several degrees. Albus did not have many weaknesses and he was generally unfazed by criticism, but not this time.

"Rufus, you are not going within fifty meters of Harry Potter. I am not going to tell you again. We are moving on. If there is anything else you wish to discuss with me, now would be the time. Otherwise, I will be leaving."

"I'm the Minister of Magic!" exclaimed Scrimgeour. "Who are you to say I can't meet with Potter? Don't you know that I can look up his address and show up on his doorstep? I thought I was just being polite by asking you to introduce us, but since you are being so irrationally stubborn, I will sidestep you and go straight to the source. Where does he live? Little Whinging, isn't it? I will look it up and I _will_ speak to him."

Albus considered Scrimgeour thoughtfully. Amazingly, Albus did not appear as angry as he had just seconds ago.

After several seconds of uncomfortable silence, Albus said, "Well, I am sorry, Rufus, but you actually will not. I suppose no one has told you about the conditions in which Harry Potter is living? I did not merely drop him off at his aunt and uncle's home and wish him good luck. His home has been given the most powerful protective enchantments known to wizardkind. You cannot simply stop at his house and ring the doorbell. Good gracious, he would be long dead by now if any witch or wizard could. Didn't you know a Death Eater went after him when he was a toddler? He survived because the enchantments worked beautifully. The Death Eater couldn't even step onto the front lawn. I think you will find you will be unable to as well."

Scrimgeour was turning redder by the second. "I am no Death Eater! What, have you made it impossible for even the Minister of Magic to pay him a visit?"

Albus continued to look thoughtful. "Well, no, I had not, but you can bet my enchantments are now going to guard him against the Minister as well. It is not exactly difficult for me to tweak."

There was a nasty silence as Scrimgeour looked like he was trying to unclench his jaw. When he finally opened his mouth, he said, "You've been reinstated as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot."

"I thank you for that, but I am afraid I will, regrettably, not have time to serve on it."

"Why?" demanded Scrimgeour.

Albus gave a little smile. "I am working on the Voldemort problem and, coincidentally, there is somewhere else I need to be tonight."

"Where is that?" asked Scrimgeour, looking curious despite his anger.

Albus stood up and Scrimgeour reluctantly did the same.

"No where you would know, Rufus," said Albus heavily. "Should you require my assistance about anything other than Harry Potter, you can always contact me. Good night, Minister."

That was the night the date of Albus' imminent death was revealed: about a year left. No more.

* * *

Albus sat with a blank piece of parchment in front of him. He had been slightly avoiding this.

He raised a quill and wrote, '_Dear Harry,_'.

The colossal blank space following these words was filled with so many possible words and sentences that it was almost laughable. There was so much that he could say - should say. Albus still didn't know how Harry was going to respond. He didn't know Harry's current mental state. Albus could say_ I am sorry._ That would be a good start. _I'm sorry I couldn't save your parents. I'm sorry it's my fault Sirius is dead. I'm sorry I kept the truth from you for so long. I'm sorry I'm still continuing to keep the whole truth away from you. I'm sorry I'm going to ask you to walk to your possible death one day. I'm sorry I left you with the Dursleys. I made so many mistakes in regards to you. _All these were good possible words. Or how did teenagers these days say 'I made a mistake'? Albus briefly remembered overhearing a student apologizing to a female companion shortly before summer, probably a girlfriend by the looks of it... he had said, 'I'm sorry, I fucked up, all right?' Yes, that would be a good letter to send to Harry. _Dear Harry, I'm sorry, I f-ed up. Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore._ That would look good on parchment. At least, it would be honest.

Albus snorted and ran his un-cursed hand over his forehead. What else could he say? Oh yes, he could say_ I'm sorry, but I'm actually dying now, not that I'm going to bother telling you though, because I'm too much of a coward_. How awful of a conversation would that be, to tell Harry that Albus only had about a year to live? That would be an emotional conversation and Albus avoided emotion because he had to keep everyone at arm's length.

No, he couldn't say that either. Becoming serious now, Albus instead wrote:

'_If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven P.M. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays. _

_If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you._

_Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday. _

_I am, yours most sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_'

That was more like him, completely formal, devoid of real emotion, no sense of apology. He knew, however, that he would have to say something about Sirius when he saw Harry in person - he owed Harry that. Albus sent the letter and waited.

He knew that it was possible his letter was not going to be received well by Harry. Harry could ignore it, or set it on fire, or write something nasty in return, or he could write back an agreement. Albus had a feeling Harry was going to write back an agreement, but nothing would surprise him at this point. As he waited for Harry's reply, he ran through every possible scenario in his head, which was always a very stupid thing to do. Albus already knew that, even if Harry ignored his letter or sent back a refusal, he was going to go fetch Harry anyway. What if Harry had sunk into a deep depression and he was sleeping all day, refusing to eat? What if Harry had decided that he absolutely hated Albus Dumbledore and he was never going to talk to him again?

But the next morning, an owl arrived, bearing Harry's signature. It simply read, '_Yes, please. Harry_.' Then Albus was left to ponder why Harry had sent such a short reply. It could be because he is angry. It could be because he is embarrassed by what happened in his headmaster's office at the end of the year. It could be because he simply did not know what else to say. Albus knew Harry was not very good with words.

Albus let out a sigh. All he could do was wait and see. Well, whatever Harry's condition, Albus knew he was going to let the Dursleys know he wasn't exactly happy with them. He might even have fun doing it.

* * *

_"He accused me of being 'Dumbledore's man through and through.' ... I told him I was."_

How did Harry manage to do this to him? No one else could do this to him. The world was full of people who were loyal to him, but none of them impacted Albus like that. Hearing that come from Harry was different than it coming from anyone else.

It was awful.

Albus had sworn to himself that he was not going to get attached to Harry - he had sworn he would always stick to keeping Harry as little more than a pawn, because he knew how Harry's story might end. Albus was to remain out of Harry's life as much as possible; the only time Albus would talk to Harry was when he absolutely had to. He was going to remain as emotionally distant as he could. He thought he had done a fairly good job at it. He hadn't even talked to Harry until Christmas his first year and he had kept it brief. He had congratulated himself; the boy had no idea that, to this day, he was walking around with enchantments placed on him by Albus Dumbledore. Then Harry had asked Albus about himself. Albus had balked, but he managed to do what he usually did when someone asked him about himself: he cracked a joke and then made Harry go back to bed without a real answer. Albus had thought he had done so well. There would be no him getting close to Harry or Harry getting close to him.

But it had already begun. Harry had asked him in June why Voldemort wanted him dead in the first place. Albus refused to tell him. He told himself he refused to tell Harry because he was only eleven, but that was a lie... he didn't tell Harry because he wanted Harry to remain happy and carefree.

Then, at the beginning of this school year, Albus had told himself that he was going to a) not become more attached and b) become increasingly detached. Albus was a dead man walking and he knew he had to see his plan through: he had to set the plan in motion for Harry to go walk to what he thinks will be his death. But of course, here was proof that Albus had failed. Just a few words from Harry and Albus is on the verge of tears, his heart filling with emotion. He had to see his plan through. How could he see his plan through?

* * *

"You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?"

Severus Snape was looking at Albus with a shocked expression on his face. Despite Albus' despair, he felt a rush of bizarre satisfaction and savage pleasure. Finally, someone was seeing Albus Dumbledore for what he truly was. Severus was looking at him like he was a drowning man waiting for Albus to throw him a life jacket. Albus didn't comply. He just looked back at Severus with malice. Finally, someone else could know that Albus was a cruel, twisted, manipulative person who did evil things in the name of good. He was sending Harry Potter, a boy he claimed to love, to his death. Albus didn't bother telling Severus he thought he would survive. He didn't bother because he felt that Severus should finally see what Albus really was. What Albus was doing to Harry was only one of the many crimes he had committed over his lifetime. It was only the tip of the iceberg.

"Don't be shocked, Severus," Albus said, his voice unbearably bitter. "How many men and women have you watched die?"

"Lately, only those whom I could not save," said Severus.

_Oh, Severus. You are so much of a better person than I_.

"You have used me," stated Severus.

_I know I have. I use everyone. You were so easy to use, Severus.  
_

"Meaning?" said Albus coldly.

"I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter -"

"But this is touching, Severus," said Albus, momentarily taken aback by Severus' admission. "Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"

This made Severus very angry. "For _him_?" he shouted. He raised his wand. "_Expecto Patronum_!"

The doe pranced around Albus' office. He watched it fly out the window.

"After all this time?"

"Always."

Albus hated himself and now someone else could hate him too. Everything Severus had done for the past sixteen years was for _love_. Everything Albus had done for the past sixteen years was for _the greater good_, and it didn't matter to him how many people got hurt in the process. Do the ends justify the means or is Albus just as evil as Gellert Grindelwald? Grindelwald's official charges, the reason he is still sitting in a cell, is for 'crimes against humanity.' Look at all the crimes Albus had done to others. Harry. Severus. Sirius. The entire Order. _Harry_.

After Severus left looking stricken, Albus placed the Resurrection Stone in the golden snitch. He wrote _I open at the close_ on it. It was demented; it was cruel. He was sending Harry to his death and his only gift could be the Stone. It didn't matter if Albus thought Harry would survive. He wasn't going to tell Harry he would probably survive because the benefits that could come with not knowing might be enormous. As far as Harry would know, he would be walking to his death with his loved ones (Albus wouldn't be one of them) beside him. Harry would do it. He would do anything to stop Voldemort. And Albus had used that. Albus had even managed to ensure he would check out before Harry would be asked to die. Albus wasn't even going to be around to see the look on Harry's face when he's told he will have to let Voldemort kill him. How perfect. Albus would die a hero in Harry's eyes and he would be spared from having to give Harry the big news himself.

_That's great, Albus, _he told himself spitefully. _Really spectacular. Your plan, so far, has unfolded perfectly, just like you knew it would._

This is what Albus Dumbledore was, he was certain. Manipulator. His only equal was Gellert Grindelwald, one of the most evil persons to ever walk the face of the earth. Scheming. Cold. The ultimate Machiavellian figure disguised as a good person. It was about bloody time someone else knew the truth.


	7. The Greater Good

_A/N: Happy New Year! Well, everyone is still being pretty quiet, but I'm watching as people have been favoriting, following, and reading/reviewing a ton of my old stuff too, so that's all good and I like that._

_I know I haven't updated in a long time. That's because my internship has started. I literally am busy every hour I'm conscious. I'm sacrificing sleep to update this now. It's probably got a ton of typos, but I'm too tired to care.  
_

_So this chapter is dark. Albus kind of makes a pact with the devil here. He agrees to Gellert's plans. A part of me wants to say Dumbledore would never have said the things he said here, but he did agree with Gellert's plans. Granted, he was brainwashed, vulnerable, manipulated, etc., but fact is, he still was planning to overthrow the Statute of Secrecy and rule over Muggles. So yeah, this is him at his darkest.  
_

_**Red Furry Demon** \- Hahahah, how do you find such good fanfics? It's amazing. Grindelwald is in denial though. They WERE together, even Bathilda said they "got on like a cauldron on fire." Haha!_

_**Lucinda** \- Oh yeah, I have read it! I've read all the Gellert/Albus fanfics on here, I have to admit. It's way better than mine; one of the best I've read. _

* * *

**"Every saint has got a past, but every sinner's got a future."  
**

**\- Switchfoot**

**"Did I know, in my heart of hearts, what Gellert Grindelwald was? I think I did, but I closed my eyes. If the plans we were making came to fruition, all my dreams would come true."**

**\- Albus Dumbledore, _Deathly Hallows_, pg. 716 (US) **

* * *

"Can't you see that they are inferior?"

Albus' brow was furrowed as he considered Gellert's words carefully. Gellert was pacing in his room as Albus sat numbly upon his bed. He thought about his coworkers and his boss, who had taken the time to humiliate him in front of his coworkers that past Friday. He thought about the fact he was working with Muggles who would never go far in life. Moving boxes and doing simple paperwork was the only thing they would ever do with their lives. They weren't like him. They weren't like Gellert. They were simple-minded.

"Yes," Albus said finally. "Yes, I know. They are."

"Of course they are!" cried Gellert, throwing his hands up in the air. "Albus, you work with them for God's sake, you should know that the Muggles are inferior better than anyone."

"I know," Albus said carefully, "but Gellert, that doesn't mean that they should be oppressed."

This made Gellert very angry. "You're hopeless!" he snarled. "How many times have I told you that it is not about oppressors and the oppressed? It's about social order and the betterment of society!"

Albus closed his eyes and did not respond.

Gellert stopped pacing and huffed. He sat down beside Albus on the bed, and Albus opened his eyes when he felt Gellert sit beside him. Gellert leaned in and kissed him softly, and Albus' eyes fluttered closed again.

The kiss was broken, and Gellert whispered softly, "I don't want to hurt the Muggles. We will help them. There is so much good we can do for them. We will save them from the diseases they have no hope of curing themselves. Albus, they're dying in the streets over sicknesses that we could cure in an instant. Our only price will be the power for us to make all final decisions. They can have freedom, but just like a parent having the ultimate word over their children, wizards will have the final say over the Muggles. They will be saved in exchange for a small price."

Albus nodded blindly. He had already heard Gellert's speech a thousand times. "I know," he whispered back. "You're right. For the greater good."

* * *

Now that it was revealed that Albus was a smitten fool, Gellert honestly couldn't understand why he didn't figure it out earlier. Once or twice the possibility had crossed his mind, but he never actually believed it. Gellert had never really wanted that kind of relationship with him, but it had its advantages, and Albus wasn't particularly bad looking or anything, so Gellert could live with it. The cost was small and the benefits were enormous.

Albus shifted slightly in his sleep, but he either did not wake, or he was doing a good job at pretending he was still asleep. He was still is Gellert's arms because Gellert's repeated attempts to make Albus give him space always failed eventually. God, he was pathetic.

Of course, Gellert had been very taken by Albus from the start, just not in that way. Gellert had read the things Albus Dumbledore had written, he knew Albus had to be very intelligent, he knew that Albus was his own age, and Gellert was interested in meeting him when it was revealed that he was living next door to his great-aunt. Albus was not the reason Gellert had come to Godric's Hollow, but he was an unexpected and pleasant surprise. At no point did Gellert think Albus was as powerful as him though, or even very powerful at all. Brains and power do not automatically go together. Some of the most brilliant were limited in their magical powers.

The truth came out when Gellert asked Albus about his future career plans. Albus had sighed and then said, "I am not sure. I cannot leave Ariana alone for a long time. Everyone had always told me that I should run for Minister of Magic. Well, actually, they assumed I would. They've been asking me when I was planning to run since I was eleven."

"Why do they think you'd want to be Minister of Magic?"

Albus had shrugged. "I suppose they think power will equate with career success. It is an assumption that I do not like. I don't want to be Minister of Magic."

"You're powerful?" asked Gellert doubtfully.

Albus shrugged again. "Yes, at least, they have been telling me I am since my first year. I did very well in school, from my first day to my last."

Gellert had then stood and demanded Albus duel him. The first time, Gellert beat Albus. Albus had looked completely stunned. Gellert then declared (in a rather bored voice) that they would do two more rounds. They began again. This time, Albus beat Gellert. It was Gellert's turn to gawk in disbelief. The last round was the one that lasted the longest. Both had just proved to the other than they were more powerful than originally assumed. Albus won that last round though, leaving Gellert staring as conflicting emotions rose up within him.

"You don't have to be angry," Albus said, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"I'm not angry," Gellert denied, though, in truth, he was a bit irritated. "I've just never been beaten before, that's all. I didn't know you were both a genius _and_ powerful."

But his anger had been immature. It took Gellert a while to understand that he had no need to be jealous of Albus' power, not when he could control Albus any way he fancied.

Gellert looked at the clock on the wall of Albus' room. It was five minutes past nine.

"Albus," Gellert muttered, "it's 9:05."

This had an immediate effect on Albus. He gasped and sat up, looking like he was ready to run out the door. "What day is it?" he demanded.

"Calm down," Gellert exclaimed. "My God, it's a Sunday, you don't work!"

Albus fell back down, still breathing heavily.

"But you still have to get up," said Gellert. "We both do."

"I'm sure Aberforth has fed Ariana -"

"No, not that. We have to make some progress on the Deathly Hallows."

Albus groaned. Instead of getting up, he started kissing Gellert's jawline, which was a reaction that Gellert did not like.

"You are impossible," snapped Gellert as he pushed Albus off him. "I don't get it. We aren't going to save the world by you lying on top of me all day."

Gellert had never been in a "relationship" before. The whole idea was pointless to him. He had had sex with people before, but it had always been a spur of a moment thing, never anything affectionate or "meaningful." Even the word "relationship" made him want to roll his eyes. Yet Albus was before him, and Albus was a brilliant, irreplaceable tool... It was unfortunate that Albus had not wanted to stick with Gellert and his plans as a _friend_, but it was what it was. Albus had feelings for him, and Gellert could easily exploit him. Gellert was willing to do anything to keep Albus on his side, even if it meant pretending to have feelings for him when he really did not.

It was pitiful though, the desperation Gellert could feel Albus emitting. He would kiss him desperately; he would tremble and his breathing would be uneven. Gellert wasn't exactly unhappy with it all - he did rather enjoy the nights he spent with Albus, but it also worried Gellert. He didn't want to admit he was afraid of developing real feelings for Albus. Gellert told himself over and over again that it was just lust, but he couldn't deny that Albus made him smile sometimes.

Unfortunately, however, there was an unexpected development. Gellert was pretending he was just as smitten as Albus in order to keep him and use him in his search for the Deathly Hallows. It wasn't ideal, but having a relationship with Albus was a small price to pay in exchange for Albus' brains and power. Yet now, Albus had become so obsessed with the romantic side of the bargain that he was becoming increasingly disinterested in their grand quest. Albus didn't want to spend countless hours looking over volumes of texts and plotting their defeat of the Statute of Secrecy. No, he wanted to kiss Gellert all day, every day.

The day after Gellert realized this, he put his intervention in motion.

Gellert visited Albus that afternoon. Gellert ignored Aberforth's look of disgust and went straight up to Albus' room to find him reading, but he wasn't reading anything that would give them a clue as to where the Deathly Hallows were. He was reading _Transfiguration Today_ for _fun_.

Albus jumped up off his bed with a grin. He walked over to Gellert without registering Gellert's look of displeasure.

"I was wondering where you were," Albus murmured before putting his arms around Gellert and kissing him softly.

Gellert turned his head away, breaking the kiss.

Albus opened his eyes. "What is it?" he breathed.

Gellert did not answer. He sighed heavily before saying, "We need to talk."

Albus stared at him with fear on his face. It was so easy, _so_ easy for Gellert to scare him.

"Why?" Albus murmured, his voice still very soft. "What's wrong, Gellert?"

Gellert still did not answer or look back at Albus.

"... Gellert?" There was definitely fear in Albus' voice now.

Gellert finally looked at Albus.

"You're not...?" Albus choked out.

"Albus, look," said Gellert as he closed Albus' bedroom door. "I love you. You know I love you."

Albus smiled with tears filling his eyes. "I -"

"No, listen. I had never planned on falling in love with you. I had never planned having someone else on my side, searching for the Deathly Hallows, searching to change the world. I know you're feeling the same things I'm feeling. But it seems, as of late, you have forgotten a part of what makes us _us_. I want to be with you, but I still want you to be my partner, my ally. Albus, we haven't found any leads on the Deathly Hallows in over a week. I am not content with an average life, even if it is with someone I love. I want to do extraordinary things with my life."

"Oh, Gellert, I know -"

"I'm not saying I don't want to be with you," Gellert interrupted. "I'm only saying I need more from us."

Albus nodded blindly. "I know. I understand. You're right. Though I still think the Elder Wand is with Gregorovitch."

"I disagree, Al, you know I do," said Gellert wearily.

"I - I know, I'm sorry, Gellert, you're right, of course you're right," Albus said hurriedly, sounding quite upset. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten - I've been too obsessed with _you_ that I forgot our plan..."

* * *

"There will be people who disagree with us, Albus."

"I know."

"There will be people who are willing to fight against us. It's inevitable."

"Yes."

"Then you must realize that there might be some bloodshed. No revolution is achieved without some sacrifice. But you and I will be unstoppable. There will be those who will fight us to the death, but I think once they see how powerful we are and how perfect our objective is, there will be little conflict. But you need to admit there will be those who will not accept our revolution quietly. These people need to be silenced."

"I know, Gellert."

"You're prepared to use force as necessary?"

"I am."

"I'm prepared to kill anyone who stands and fights us. I don't like it, but their lives would be a small price to pay compared to all the Muggle lives we'll save. Can you say you'd raise your wand and kill?"

Albus hesitated.

"Remember," Gellert said forcefully, "what those Muggles did to Ariana. When we reshape the world, situations like that will never happen again. The Muggles will know that witches and wizards are above them, and they will love us for it. But you have to say it."

Albus nodded. "I know. I don't want to kill, but if I -"

"When," interrupted Gellert impatiently.

"- when I have to kill, I will."

* * *

"This isn't you."

Albus blinked at Aberforth. His younger brother was looking alarmed.

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" asked Albus coldly.

"I mean this utter bullshit coming from your mouth isn't you," Aberforth said, his eyes wide.

"Oh really?" Albus said, his expression stony. "What are you now, a Muggle-lover? Did you forget that they raped and tortured Ariana at the age of six?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," Aberforth said in a tone that was almost as cold as Albus'. "And I'm not a Muggle-lover. I'm saying that these ideas - this idea that you and Grindelwald are going to rule over them and take away their freedoms is not like you. The words coming out of your mouth are Grindelwald's."

"Freedom is appraised too highly," Albus said with a glare. "Freedom. They're just Muggles. I'm not saying they deserve pain; I'm just saying that they are inferior. We were meant to rule. They need someone telling them what to do, because they can't help themselves. They are like children. They cannot handle total freedom. You can't blame them; it isn't their fault, but it is what it is. In our society, the Muggles would never have done that to Ariana because they'll know we're superior and they cannot hurt us. Gellert and I are going to change the world for the better. You'll see."

Aberforth just looked back at him in shock.

* * *

Albus, Gellert, and Aberforth all froze as soon as they saw Ariana's body fall to the ground. Aberforth was the first to come to his senses and he started shaking her still frame. She wasn't moving. She wasn't responding. Albus was quite certain that his younger brother was shouting, but Albus couldn't hear him over the ringing in his ears.

Albus fell to the floor and crawled over to his motionless sister on his hands and knees. He was only dimly aware that Gellert was running away. Albus' hands were shaking so badly that he could barely hold his wand and say, "_Ennervate_." It was no use.

And Gellert was gone.

Gellert was running away because, at this moment, he was afraid of Albus Dumbledore for the first time.

* * *

Albus was sitting crisscrossed in front of his mother's and sister's headstone. He was shaky because the last time he had eaten was before he was discharged from St. Mungo's nearly two full days ago, but he did not care. It was getting close to four in the morning and he had not slept. Instead, he sat before their graves pleading internally for forgiveness. He still did not know where Aberforth was. Gellert was probably halfway around the world hunting for the Elder Wand by now, and Albus begged that Gellert never find it.

_I'm sorry. What have I become? I'm sorry._

* * *

_A/N: Uh, well, that was depressing. The next chapter may be funny; I haven't decided yet. There's one thing I want to write about, but it's kinda crackficy-ish again. I don't know if I should do it. I know a lot of shy people are following this story/have favorited it. So what do you guys think?_


	8. Rigorous Discussions

_A/N: Ummm, okay, this is that crackish chapter that I mentioned last chapter. While it is crackficish, I can also completely believe Dumbledore would do something along these lines, and since he was headmaster for decades, it had to have come up from time to time. Yes, I really think this would fit him, but probably a lot of you will disagree. I'm all right with this._

_If you aren't into this chapter, don't worry, the next chapter after this will be in the normal, serious doom-and-gloom fashion. This is short and lighthearted. _

_**mangoarcher1802:** Ah, I'm thinking either next chapter or two chapters from now. It's hard putting Harry in because we pretty much have already seen all the Harry-Dumbledore interactions from the books. The only stuff I can work with is looking at the same interactions from Dumbledore's eyes! But I do love the Harry-Dumbledore relationship. It's my favorite part of the entire series, so I like writing about it.  
_

_**Red Furry Demon:** Yes definitely, Albus is scariest in this chapter. I think Albus would agree that this version of himself is downright terrifying. You know, I always thought he was kind of afraid of how far he would've gone at Grindelwald's side if Ariana had not died. How far would he have gone before snapping out of it? He'd probably be terrified of hearing the answer. As for "Prisoner of Nurmengard," now that's crack. My chapter here is not so crackficish anymore. But it was hilarious. "The checkout card had your name on it. Seventy-two times." Haha! "BUT HE'S THE EVIL OVERLORD WHO CAUSED WORLD WAR II! HOW COULD YOU, DUMBLEDORE?" Hahaha!  
_

_**Terahlyanwe:** Thank you, but if you don't understand why Albus did the things he did, I'm afraid I've failed as a fanfic writer. My whole point of this fanfiction is to defend his character by explaining why he did the things he did! Dumbledore is a product of guilt, knowledge, and power. I think of Dumbledore as a well-intentioned person who made mistakes early in his life, and he never got over making those mistakes. I think he felt overwhelming guilt because of his sister and Grindelwald. JK Rowling said that Dumbledore knows things, and he would "rather not know." Dumbledore knows everything about everybody, but nobody knew his true self, and this allowed him to manipulate others. He is powerful, and with that power came personal responsibility. I think he genuinely tried to do the right thing, JKR said that Dumbledore was a "innately good man," but he had to hurt others in the process, and that only added to the guilt he already felt. He didn't want to hurt the others, but he still did it because his end goal was always for the greater good, which I think he despised about himself because it reminded him of Grindelwald. That's my take on him anyway. I honestly could write an essay on him as a character.  
_

_**EvilFuzzy9:** Thank you! We'll see if you say the same thing after I'm done with this fic. [evil cackling]  
_

* * *

**_American Principal Decisions v. Dumbledore Decisions:_**

_**Basilisk in the school**: Principal (evacuate school immediately!), Dumbledore (teachers walk kids to classes!)_

_**Mass murderer breaks in**: Principal (cancel school, call in SWAT team!), Dumbledore (sleep-over in the cafeteria!)_

_**Student nearly kills another student**: Principal (expulsion, full criminal trial!), Dumbledore (detention (filing papers)!)_

_**Need to hide valuables in school**: Principal (combination lock!), Dumbledore (multiple obstacles that could result in death!)_

_\- (I stole this off Tumblr)_

* * *

1991

There were a lot of benefits that came with being Albus Dumbledore, and there was also a lot of drawbacks. On the plus side, being Albus Dumbledore meant he could do pretty much anything he pleased. Sure, he had to deal with the fact that only he knew the crimes he had done in the past, and he hated himself for it very much, but he kept busy, so busy he could almost forget that he hated himself. Being the headmaster at Hogwarts consumed most of his time, but since he did not have to teach anymore, he had a lot of freedom to wander around the school invisibly and get into other people's business without them knowing. He had eyes everywhere. Even though the vast majority of the students had never had a conversation with him, Albus actually knew a lot about his students, including the things they weren't supposed to be doing at all.

Hogwarts was endlessly entertaining, honestly. There were things that were annoying about it. There were always overbearing parents complaining about how he ran the school, and Filch was constantly trying to persuade Albus to let him hang detention students by the thumbs, but there were perks. One of those perks was actually keeping up with student relationship gossip. It amused him so much, and sometimes he was even given the opportunity to make the students uncomfortable.

It would be the same drill every time. Sometimes the teachers would find a pair of older students in a - compromising - situation, and they would break them up, take fifty points off each one's House, and drag them straight up to him. Snape was the one that reported the most students, maybe because it was usually Slytherins that got in trouble for that, or maybe because he was secretly envious, but no matter why. The other professors had no idea what Professor Dumbledore did to fix the problem from happening again, but whatever it was, it almost always worked.

But this time, it was Minerva McGonagall who was throwing the two students (both Slytherins, typical) in his office and slamming the door closed behind her angrily. It was show time.

With a serious expression, Albus surveyed the two seventh years over his half-moon spectacles. The girl was named Hannah Alcorn. She had dark brown hair and hazel eyes, and she was looking quite angry. Albus had spoken to her once before for trying to cheat on a Herbology exam in her first year. The boy was named Michael Perrin, and Albus had never spoken to him before. He had blonde hair and blue eyes. His expression was a bit angry, but nothing compared to Hannah's.

"She's lying!" burst out Hannah suddenly with no care in the world that she was being disrespectful. "McGonagall is lying! We were just talking, all right? She's angry at us because we're Slytherins, and we gave her a hard time yesterday for a laugh!"

Still looking grave, Albus set his hands on his desk and interlocked his fingers, and it looked like he was carefully thinking. "You were just talking?"

"Yes!" said Hannah loudly as Michael nodded.

"What were you talking about?" asked Albus.

There was an awkward pause before the two teenagers could come up with a lie.

"We were talking about what we were going to do this weekend," said Michael finally.

"Hm," Albus said, looking contemplative. "Yes. Talking. Of course you were. Professor McGonagall means well, but sometimes she exaggerates."

"Right," Miachel said, looking taken aback, looking surprised that his dolt of a headmaster was falling for it.

"Well," said Albus serenely, "as your headmaster, I am personally responsible for trying to prevent you both from getting into another - er - _rigorous discussion_ about your weekend plans in an abandoned corner of the school. Now, if any professor does find you engaging in a serious discussion again, I will need to take action."

Both Hannah and Michael stared, looking uncomfortable.

Albus shook his head. "Unfortunately, a lot of teenagers do not know the repercussions of engaging in such intense discussions. Many do not really understand how these discussions work or how to deal with the consequences, and many have misconceptions that are completely incorrect. Therefore, I have to inform you, that if any professor ever finds you discussing your weekend with one another again in that manner, I am going to have to ask Professor Snape to have a - talk - with you."

The horror on Hannah and Michael's faces almost made Albus laugh, but he managed to keep a straight face.

"You think -" Michael stuttered with difficulty, "I - we weren't - McGonagall's lying! And we know how sex works; we aren't nine!"

"Well, this is a sudden change of topic. Why are you talking about sex?" said Albus calmly. "I thought you two were only discussing getting your Potions homework finished this weekend... However, now that you mention it, it probably would be a good idea to have Professor Snape talk to you about _that_ as well, since that is where your minds are wandering."

Hannah looked pale and Michael started to shake his head.

"No," breathed Michael.

"Yes, I think so," continued Albus gravely. "You both probably don't know much about it."

"Yes, we do," Michael said immediately. "I mean, not from experience or anything, but we do."

"Really?" Albus said, looking dubious. "How much do you know, then?"

Michael looked at Hannah for help, but she was betraying him by simply looking at him blankly.

"Well," Michael began to uncomfortably tell his over one hundred-year-old headmaster whom he had never spoken to before, "it's when a man and a woman -"

"Not necessarily," Albus cut across him.

Michael's voice faded and died, looking very horror-struck.

Albus started rummaging through the papers on his desk, grabbed a blank one and a quill, and began to write gibberish. "No, you both clearly know nothing. I'm going to ask Professor Snape to talk to you about it..." He stopped writing and frowned, looking thoughtful. "Or, you know, I could talk to you about it. I was young once."

"No," pleaded Michael in pure terror as Hannah shook her head adamantly. "No, please, sir - we won't - we won't ever do that again -"

"That's not what I'm trying to tell you," said Albus impatiently. "Don't make promises you aren't going to keep. How gullible do you think I am? Either stop it or, more likely, merely don't get caught again. If you do, either I or Professor Snape will personally sit down with you both and have a very long talk with you. Control yourselves or find a better hiding location. You don't want me nor Professor Snape to have to talk with you, do you?"

They both shook their heads frantically.

"All right," said Albus brightly. "Well, have a good weekend, then. Good luck on your exams."

It took the students a minute before they remembered how to walk out the door. Albus watched them as they had a silent fight over who could get out the door first before he could change his mind and call them back.

When the door had closed, Phineas Nigellus said, "I used to just give them detention when I was headmaster, but you bring punishment to a whole new level, Dumbledore."

* * *

_A/N: No really, I can see this happening. I mean, think about it. Dumbledore pretty much just lets things happen. He lets Snape be mean to the students, he lets Peeves stay at Hogwarts, he lets Harry and co. run around Hogwarts doing dangerous things, etc. He just steps back and watches all the mayhem unfold. It wouldn't be fitting of him to just assign detention. He'd rather amuse himself. Haha! That's my personal take anyway. In DH, JK Rowling writes that Harry and Ginny had been spending time together in abandoned corners of the school. Now, they weren't going all the way or anything, but I have to wonder what would've happened if Snape came out of thin air and took them to Dumbledore. Like what would he have done? Haha, I don't know, but it would've been awkward. Somebody write a fanfic, please.  
_

_But next chapter is serious.  
_


	9. Guns for Hands

_A/N: Hi everyone. Are you ready for a very long chapter? Also note that this chapter is Angst Level 500, so you might want to read either the last chapter, the Gellert chapter, or the first chapter before this to compensate for all the angst.  
_

_After completing this story, I went back and edited this chapter. Re-titled it. This is a _huge_ nod toward Twenty One Pilots' "Guns for Hands." Unless you are familiar with this song, _and_ have deciphered its meaning, this is a weird title for you... Twenty One Pilots is laced throughout this story for a reason. They sing of self-loathing. Self-doubt. Self-hatred. Self-destruction. All things that I think fit Dumbledore well. And here, it reaches its peak. _

_So, this is where I break a bit more from canon. I'm not going to bet any money that JK Rowling would say, "Yeah, that happened!" but I do think it easily could have happened. This is a sensitive topic, so all I'll say is I did this because 1) I think, given what Dumbledore went through, he would've been in enough pain to do it, and 2) I wanted to add depth to what happened in Dumbledore's office in OotP. I took a tiny idea and and went with it. I won't give away what that thought was until the bottom._

_Unfortunately, if you've already read Stay Alive (that means you, Red Furry Demon), you've already seen a lot of this. But I like to think I've improved it. I also caught an error I made originally - Elphias had been at Ariana's funeral, so I had to change things to conform to JK Rowling's already perfect world.  
_

_I have to give this chapter a TRIGGER WARNING for suicidal thoughts/self-harm. Turn back now, if you need.  
_

**_nickdoran -_** _Thank you! I'm glad you like it. Dumbledore is my favorite character - he has been since I was 9 - and I'm tired of Dumbledore bashing fanfics. _

_**EvilFuzzy9** \- I'm glad you agree! I feel bad for the teenagers. The threat of having Snape or Dumbledore give you the talk has got to be the scariest thing ever. I think Snape would outright refuse though. _

_**mangoarcher1802** \- Okay, I lied. Harry's in this chapter - at the end. I was planning on splitting this chapter into two chapters, but then I decided I wanted to be all included in one... I'm not that into Sirius. I know he's one of the most popular characters, but I don't like him. Haha! So I don't write about him... Snape-Dumbledore I have actually done in a different story of mine called "Talk to Me." It's a Snape-centered story, but Dumbledore's in it too, if you want to check it out. But Harry is in this one. I love the Harry-Dumbledore dynamic. _

_**Guest** \- Yeah, the teens should definitely get some education about the topic. I just find the idea of any of the Hogwarts professors actually giving the talk so bizarre and hilarious. BTW, who gave Harry the talk? Your idea about Lily is interesting and cool, but JK Rowling has said Harry lived because Voldemort gave Lily the option to stand aside. Your idea is still neat though; I've never heard that theory before. _

_**Red Furry Demon** \- Dumbledore is both awesome and crazy. He certainly has an interesting way of running things. That's why he wouldn't do what the normal adult would do (give the talk, assign detention). Haha! And you just know he must have had to deal with this from time to time. And "so that's what they call it now," LOL, yeah, that's exactly something Dumbledore would say in that situation. Yep, completely mad. Why don't they have sex ed at Hogwarts? I can't picture any of the professors teaching it.  
_

_**Konochamaya** \- Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed!_

* * *

_**"I know what you think in the morning when the sun shines on the ground and shows what you have done. It shows where your mind has gone. And you swear to your parents that it will never happen again. I know... I know what that means. I know..."  
**_

_**\- Twenty One Pilots, "Guns for Hands."**_

_**"It was [Harry's] fault Sirius had died; it was all his fault. ... Harry had never felt more trapped inside his own head and body, never wished so intensely that he could be somebody - anybody - else. ... 'I know how you are feeling, Harry,' said Dumbledore very quietly. 'No, you don't,' said Harry. ... Dumbledore knew **_**nothing**_** about his feelings." - OotP, chapter 37**_

* * *

Albus was choking on his own blood from his broken nose as it fell down his throat, but he didn't stop to mend it. Instead, he walked blindly down the street.

"Albus, wait!" he heard Elphias call. Why, oh why did Elphias have to show up for the funeral? "Stop!"

Albus felt a hand tug his left arm, but he snatched it away from Elphias' grip.

"Don't touch me," he snarled at his childhood best friend. He never wanted anyone to ever touch him again. He heard Elphias fall back and the only footsteps Albus could hear were his own. Elphias was not his friend anymore. How could he still be after Albus had traveled so far away from everything he had known so fast over these past few months?

Albus tore into his house looking, as he assumed, like a completely deranged man. How pitiful he must look. It was too much. Far too much. The freshly-turned eighteen-year-old found himself shaking and crying uncontrollably in his remarkably empty house. He made a dash for Aberforth's room only to realize his brother had packed his things and left. Fifteen years old and on his own. Albus figured Aberforth thought he would be safer on his own, away from his elder brother. Albus was quite sure Aberforth was correct in that belief. Running away from Albus' "care" was probably the smartest thing Aberforth ever had done.

Albus was not the same person he was two and half months ago. He didn't know that person anymore. He had graduated from Hogwarts full of promise. His whole life had been stretched out in front of him. He could have become anything at that point, but instead, he had become this.

The guilt he felt was overwhelming. It was his fault. All of it. His father, his mother, Ariana... The entire house was empty now. Only Aberforth had escaped with his life.

Albus saw that Aberforth had left a dirty glass in the sink, a habit of his that always irked Albus. He picked it up and threw it across the kitchen. It hit a wall and shattered. It was satisfying to see it break into a countless number of little pieces, so he rummaged through the kitchen shelving and broke several more glasses and dishes. He thought to himself that he didn't even need them anymore; he had a full set, when was he going to use all those dishes when it was just him left?

He had no purpose. He had no one. His brother would never speak to him again. Elphias was probably angry at him, as well as Fallon, because he had stopped replying to her letters early on in the summer. The person he had fallen in love with was a murderer who would most likely go on to do terrible things for the greater good. Albus was a definite nobody who had been fired from his horrible Muggle job after he stopped showing up to work. What was the point? He was so very alone - and he figured he was better off being alone, because everyone who came into close contact with him was eventually hurt.

Albus didn't really know what he was doing. He had stopped breaking things and sought to turn his rage onto something different. That something different turned out to be himself. He foggily remembered grabbing a knife from the kitchen and tried to slice a vein in his left arm, but he was shaking, and he couldn't see well. He figured he would just bleed to death with the pain of it all, and then he wouldn't have to feel again anymore... unless God decided he would give him a second chance.

He crumpled to the floor, and before he lost consciousness due to blood loss, he held onto that thought. Maybe he would wake up and be ten years old all over again. Maybe he would wake up and be somebody different entirely. He didn't want to die. He wanted a second chance. If God could give him that, maybe He would even make him normal and take his homosexuality away too.

Unbeknownst to Albus, his nosy but well-intentioned neighbor, Bathilda Bagshot, would enter the front door and find him there, unconscious and near death.

* * *

When Albus slowly began to regain consciousness later that evening, he didn't want to open his eyes. He was aware of the faint sounds around him, so he knew he was alive. He prayed that his wish had come true. He didn't really care who he would be: anybody other than Albus Dumbledore would have been good.

"Albus?" he heard a woman say gently. "Can you hear me?"

Shit. _Albus_. That was still him. Defeated, he opened his eyes to see he was in a hospital. This must be the dreaded St. Mungo's his mother had told him about... yet, it did not seem like a horrible place... There was a young woman who did not look a day over thirty watching him carefully. She had dark brown hair and an oval face.

"So," the woman said softly, "looks like you're finally awake. Welcome to the land of the living, Albus."

Albus swallowed hard and looked around the room. It was his own private room. The door was shut and there was only one very small window at the top toward the ceiling. His mother had always told him that St. Mungo's was horrible, but it didn't seem like this was true. It was clean. Smelled nice. Warm, clean white sheets. Maybe his sister would have been better off here anyway. At least, she would be alive.

The woman put down a clipboard and sat down on a stool that was beside him.

"Do you remember what happened?" the woman asked in that same gentle tone.

Albus closed his eyes again and nodded. He stretched out his left arm and examined it carefully. There was a line running up his arm that was barely visible by a long vein. It was whiter than the rest of his skin. He touched his nose and found it was no longer broken, but slightly crooked.

"We healed it as best we could," the woman explained, "but some time had passed since it was broken, so it did not heal perfectly. As for the line on your arm, it is very faint, and it will probably fade away."

Albus said nothing.

The woman cocked her head. "You are the Albus Dumbledore who writes for _Transfiguration Today_."

"Damn," Albus said faintly. "I was hoping I was a different Albus."

The woman smiled. "You very nearly died. Fortunately, some teenager discovered that dragon blood could be used to replenish Wizarding blood ten times faster than an ordinary Replenishment Potion. If it wasn't for that kid, you probably would have died."

Albus sat there in silence, stunned and, as he could only describe it, completely pissed off. "Well," he said finally, "looks like I can finally call myself a complete failure. Can't even kill myself without myself going and ruining it."

"Really," the woman said softly. "And would you like to tell me why you are suicidal?"

"It doesn't matter," said Albus, his voice still very faint.

"Well," the woman said softly, "it does matter to me. I don't want to see an eighteen-year-old kill himself, even if I don't know him. I don't want to see anyone kill themselves. I want to help you. Why do you want to kill yourself?"

"I'm not really suicidal," Albus said. "It was... an impulse. I lost it. If I really was suicidal, I would've planned it out better. I'd be dead."

"Albus, people who are fine do not attempt suicide randomly -"

"I was angry, and I temporarily lost it, that's all."

"I can believe you got caught up in the heat of your despair, but something put that despair there. Why did you do it?"

"I can't -" Albus gasped, emotion overtaking him, "I can't live with myself. I can't live with the guilt. I'm disgusting... Oh God, I feel so guilty," he said, his voice cracking. "It's my fault my family is dead. It's all my fault."

Hot tears poured down his face. Albus heard the Aberforth in his head snarl, "You fucking queer."

He took several deep breaths. "My father. My mother. My sister. All dead because of me. I can't stand it. I can't live with it; I want out. Please, I just want it to end, and that's my business, and mine alone."

"Albus," the woman said after a long pause, "I hear you. You feel guilty. You blame yourself. I don't know exactly why, but you do. You feel like you can't go on. But you must go on."

"Why?" Albus suddenly exploded, jumping out of his bed and going for the door. It was locked, and he didn't have his wand, but even if he did, he knew magic wouldn't work anyway. He was in lockdown in the mental ward, he knew it, and mental wards are built to keep people in. The woman was writing herself on the clipboard because normal magic wouldn't work in this room. "Why must I go on living with myself?" he shouted on, unperturbed by the fact he could not get out. "I am despicable. It's _my_ life, why should anyone tell _me_ that _I_ can't decide to end it? Are you going to live with the guilt for me?" he spat.

"You are here for a reason," the woman said quietly. "You do not know what that reason is and you might not know for five, ten, fifty, or even one hundred years from now, but you will see someday. There is a reason you woke up. There is a reason why you are standing before me. You are here for a reason, even though you don't know what it is yet. God will take you home when He is ready. But as long as you are breathing, you have business to do. Every day you wake up, you have business to do. You're not done yet, Albus, and you are very young. Please have hope."

"Hope?" Albus cried bitterly. "Hope? I am in too much pain to have hope; I cannot simply replace despair with hope."

"Hope is not a substitution for pain," the woman said. "Hope is in spite of pain."

"I don't deserve to live," Albus said, his voice shaking horribly. "I don't deserve one more breath. I don't want to hurt anymore."

The woman watched him sadly. "You deserve so much more than a knife to your arm, no matter what you've done or have not done."

"If you knew," Albus said, his vision blurry through tears, "if you knew what I have done, what I am responsible for, you wouldn't say I deserve anything more."

For several minutes, Albus just looked at the floor. The woman did not move, as if she was waiting for him to say more, knowing that he would say more...

"Before I lost consciousness," Albus began, and he was pleased to hear his voice was much steadier now, "all I could think was that I didn't want to die. I wanted a second chance. I'm dirty. Guilty. Horrible..."

"It is true," the woman said, "that you cannot turn back time. What's done is done. However, you can start over, Albus. Don't ever forget that you can start over if you need to. Doesn't matter what you've done. There is no shame in starting over. Do it as many times as you need. You do get a second chance. You get many second chances. Every breath is a second chance. Every sunrise is a second chance. Pick yourself up and stay alive. You don't know what the dawn will bring you."

He closed his eyes and felt hot tears fall again. When he had found his voice, he said, "I'm nobody."

He heard the woman sigh sympathetically. "Albus, everybody is a nobody."

"I don't know what to do with my life."

"Welcome to freedom, Albus."

"... If God is real, which I'm not sure if He is, there's no way He'd ever forgive me for what I've done. If God can't forgive me, how can I forgive myself?"

"All is already forgiven, Albus. You are forgiven. You were forgiven even while you were bleeding to death. The forgiveness was sitting right there on the floor next to you. Couldn't you see it?"

Albus nodded, but kept his eyes closed.

"So," she said after several minutes of silence. "Do you want to tell me who gave you those marks on your neck?"

Albus cringed. Gellert had done it on purpose so everyone at work would see them and give him a hard time. They had, but they all assumed Albus had a girlfriend, and he wasn't about to correct them.

"Not particularly, no," Albus said finally.

"Are you in a romantic relationship with someone?"

"Not anymore."

"Did she have something to do with why you tried to kill yourself?"

"I didn't try to kill myself because she left me," Albus shot back angrily. "I'm not that pathetic."

The woman shrugged. "All right. But did she play a contributing factor?"

Albus was quiet for a long time. "Yes, but it's not what you think. It's complicated."

"Who was she?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Because she hurt you?"

"It's not _me_ I feel bad for," Albus snapped. "It's my innocent little sister I feel bad for. I brought her into our house and then my sister winds up dead! It's my fault; he - I - I mean, she - killed her, not on purpose, but she did, all right, and it's because of me." Albus could feel his face growing hot and he prayed that the woman not realize his slip.

The woman watched him for a while before saying, "Oh. I see. And what was this other boy's name that you were with?"

"She wasn't a boy; I misspoke," lied Albus unconvincingly.

"I don't care what your sexuality is, Albus. I'm not here to judge you. My only job is to make sure you don't wind up back here again."

Putting on his best Aberforth impression, Albus said, "Fine. I'm tired. I don't want to talk anymore."

But the moment the woman went away, he regretted it. Now he was trapped in this white-walled room. Alone.

* * *

"No, do you know what the really tricky thing is about all of this?"

"What is it, Albus?"

"Normally, when you go through the end of a relationship, you get to mourn losing that person because you still love them, whether you want to or not. Growing apart? I could live with that. An outside affair? I could live with that. I could live with all of that. No... she..."

"When are we going to start referring to him as a he?" asked the woman with a touch of impatience.

"No, it was a she."

The woman sighed.

"She..." continued Albus, "she's a horrible person. She's evil. I fell in love with the worst kind of person. I can't mourn losing her because I'm too busy mourning my sister's life. I can't miss her because she's a murderer. And she'll kill again. I'm sure of it. I should have stopped her. I should've done something, but I just let hi- her run away. I can't miss her; I'm not allowed."

"You truly believe he'll kill again?"

"Yes. One day, her name will be on newspaper headlines."

"Maybe yours will be too. Maybe you'll be the one who stops him."

"I'm too much of a coward."

There was silence. Then the woman said, "No, I don't think you are."

* * *

It took ten days and several psychological evaluations before Albus was released from St. Mungo's. He no longer felt like he was a danger to himself, but Albus was still lost, hurt, and angry. He returned to his empty house and began to try to pick up the pieces.

One afternoon, a few days after he was discharged, he heard someone knock on the door. Albus sighed and assumed it would be Bathilda Bagshot. She had been periodically checking in on him to make sure he was still alive and feed him, even though he had told her repeatedly not to.

But when Albus opened the door, he found himself facing Elphias Doge and Fallon Jones. Two weeks ago, Albus had been a complete jerk to Elphias, and Albus had not spoken to Fallon in months. Both of his friends had perplexed and concerned looks on their faces. Fallon had the same honey-colored straight hair, but she had cut it and it only came to her shoulders. Albus could see that she had aged - matured - since he last saw her on graduation day. Elphias still had his boyish face and looked much younger than he really was. It did not seem like the summer had changed Elphias at all.

"Oh," was all Albus said.

Fallon took a deep breath. "Can we come in, please?"

Defeated, Albus shrugged and looked at their shoes rather than their faces. "I reckon."

He turned and walked into his living room, his face becoming colored. He heard Elphias and Fallon behind him. The door shut. Albus sat down on the sofa and stared at the coffee table wordlessly.

Elphias sat down on a chair perpendicular to the sofa while Fallon chose to sit right beside Albus and was fixing him with a stare as if she was trying to solve something. Albus couldn't bring himself to look at either of them. It wasn't that he didn't know he was being rude. He just didn't have the strength not to be.

Both Fallon and Elphias had written to Albus repeatedly that summer. He almost always ignored them. At first, Albus described his daily life to Elphias, but then Albus stopped writing. It wasn't that he disliked them or didn't want to be their friend anymore - it was just that he so busy being obsessed with Gellert, with the Hallows, with the Resurrection Stone. He thought his future was with Gellert and the Hallows, not Elphias Doge and Fallon Jones. He didn't have the _time_ to write them back. He was deeply involved in his _vision_, and keeping up with Hogwarts friends was nowhere on his priority list. He had been too busy being a gullible, love-struck, idealistic fool.

"I never really got to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your sister, Albus," Elphias said finally after a very long and painful silence.

Albus looked up at him and saw that Elphias had a look of utmost concern on his face. He did not look angry as Albus expected he would have been.

"I'm very sorry," Elphias went on. "I... I've been insensitive, Albus. Alll I did was talk about me in my letters. How much fun I was having traveling the world while you were here working and trying to take care of your brother and sick sister. I'm sorry about that."

Albus swallowed. He couldn't stand anymore of this. "No," he croaked, "I'm sorry. Both of you. I stopped answering your letters only a couple weeks into the summer - I didn't bother. I haven't been a good friend at all."

Fallon reached out and took his hand.

Albus sighed and looked at his lap. "I've - I've been trying to piece my life back together. It's in shambles. I've treated you both badly. I don't deserve your friendship."

"Don't be ridiculous," Fallon said softly. "You've lost so much in the past few months, Albus. It is okay not to be okay right now. You are our friend and you always will be."

Albus couldn't find any words, so he just sat in silence for a long while.

Fallon took in a breath. "Albus, do you want to talk about what happened? I think it would help you if you talked to someone who cares."

He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he shook his head. Fallon had not let go of his hand. He looked over to her.

"Tell me about your summer," Albus said finally.

A smile twitched on Fallon's mouth. "If you wish," she said softly.

For almost ten minutes, Fallon talked about her summer in a ridiculously detailed fashion. Albus knew she was doing this because she thought hearing her voice would be therapeutic to Albus. And it was. Fallon might not have received the marks in school that Albus had, but he was convinced she was a genius in her own right. She knew things instinctively. She always knew the right thing to say and do. It was remarkable how shrewd she was. Albus knew that Fallon would have seen through Gellert Grindelwald immediately. Why hadn't he?

There was a tapping noise. All three heads looked in the direction of the kitchen window. An owl was tapping on it. A letter was in his beak.

Completely perplexed, Albus' eyebrows came closer together. "No one else writes me," he muttered. "That owl must be lost."

Fallon jumped up, went to the window, and retrieved the letter.

"Who is it from, Fallon?" Albus asked.

She made her way back to the living room, opened it, and hastily looked at the signature as quickly as possible so she did not read what had been written. She looked up at Albus and said, mispronouncing the last name, "Who's Gellert Grindelwald?"

Albus jumped up so fast he saw stars. Completely forgetting his manners, he snatched the letter from her hand and then fell back down onto the couch wordlessly. It was Gellert's handwriting. Hardly breathing, he read.

_Albus, _

_I know you are hurting right now, and I am largely responsible. For this, I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. Believe me, when I woke up that fateful day, I was not planning on dueling your brother. I did not plan to kill Ariana - though I'm not entirely sure if it was me that cast the fatal curse. I know you're hurting, and I know I fled. I am sorry. I know you may never forgive me. _

_But you should know, Albus, that I still love you. I admit I'm a bit horrified that you have not tried to contact me. I have waited every day for a letter from you, but none has come. I cannot say I exactly blame you, but I do feel like you have forgotten everything we said and everything we did. Do you still have feelings for me? Evidence is pointing toward "no." And that breaks my heart, Albus. _

_Listen, if you ever can find it in your heart to forgive me, I will always still want your friendship, your partnership, your love. Should you ever want to join me in search of the Hallows, you are welcome to contact me. We could work together again. We could be together again. This offer stands no matter how many years pass by, Albus. You are always welcome to join me. _

_I hope that you can find peace in this. _

_Gellert Grindelwald_

Albus read the letter over again. He felt a different kind of emotion rise up within him - something other than despair and guilt that he had been feeling for two weeks. It took him a moment to realize what he was feeling was revulsion.

How could he not have seen it? How could he not have seen how evil Gellert Grindelwald was? Because he had hid it so well...

How could someone so brilliant, so funny, so outgoing, so spontaneous, and so handsome be so insidiously evil deep underneath it all? Albus remembered the feeling of Gellert's lips against his, how soft they were, everything was perfect, so how could he have been kissing the devil?

Albus felt _sick_. He felt sick, and he wished that he had never slept with Gellert. It made him want to throw up knowing that he had let someone so evil touch his skin - in that way and in any way. Distance from Gellert had made Albus realize just how stupid he had been. Gellert didn't actually have feelings for him - he was just _using_ him. Gellert knew Albus was powerful. Albus was a tool to him, nothing more. This letter - this _I still love you_ thing - was utter bullshit. It was meant to tug on his heartstrings and enslave him via his infatuation. Gellert was simply still hoping there was a chance Albus would come back to him and let himself be used again.

Albus suddenly became aware Elphias and Fallon were still in the the room, looking at him. How many minutes had passed by while Albus simply stared at Gellert's stupid letter?

Albus cleared his throat and tried to summon the strength to set Gellert's letter on fire. He lost this battle, crumpled up the letter, and stuffed it into his pocket instead.

"Who's Gellert Grindelwald?" Elphias said, mispronouncing the name as Fallon had.

"No one," Albus managed. "Irrelevant."

He knew this was not a polite reply, but he had said it anyway. Elphias raised his eyebrows. What else could Albus say? How could he tell his friends that he had a romantic relationship with a male expelled Durmstang student who then turned around and killed his disabled sister? They would be rightfully disgusted.

"So," Albus said, struggling to divert the topic away from Gellert. "So, Fallon, you were saying you went to Paris?"

Fallon fixed him with a look that clearly said _you and I will talk when Elphias leaves_. It made Albus admire her even more. Then she went on explaining what she did in Paris.

An hour passed, largely, in silence. Albus knew Fallon was waiting for Elphias to leave so that she could talk with Albus in private, and Albus knew Elphias didn't want to leave prematurely. They had talked about everything from the weather to graduation to future plans. Everything except Gellert Grindelwald and his mysterious letter.

Finally, Elphias sighed heavily and said he needed to go. Albus saw him to the door, thanking him and apologizing again, but Elphias wouldn't hear anything about it.

"We're friends," Elphias said. "You don't need to apologize. Just please keep in contact with me."

Albus walked back to the living room and sat down beside Fallon. He knew he was about to be interrogated, but he trusted Fallon. She had a sort of motherly touch to her and she was a genius simply in a different way than he. She was street smart and kind-hearted. Plus, she was a girl. If he was going to tell anyone his secret about Gellert, it would be a girl, because another boy knowing would just be too much for Albus.

"Albus," she said, interrupting his thoughts, "when you read that letter from Gellert Grindelwald -"

"Grin-del-vald," Albus pronounced, "is how you say his name. The _w _is like a _v_."

"Grin-del-vald," Fallon went on hastily, "it looked like you were going to throw up. You just froze and your face went from pale to red to pale again. You stared at it in complete silence for five full minutes. Who is he? Is he our age? I don't recognize the name; he didn't go to Hogwarts, did he?"

Albus sighed and close his eyes. He was going to do it. He was going to do it. "Gellert is our age. Well, a year younger - he's seventeen. He attended Durmstang but was expelled. He's my neighbor's nephew. He was living with her for two and a half months, but he's gone now."

"So you became friends with him?" Fallon asked. She did not sound suspicious - yet.

"I did." Albus opened his eyes. "Gellert is brilliant, and when I say brilliant, I mean brilliant. Powerful. Talented. Forgive me for my lack of modesty, but he is like the Durmstang equivalent of me. We dueled several times - non-lethally, of course. It was his idea. He even beat me a couple times. Very powerful. He used to say the same thing about me - that he had no idea someone could be as brilliant and talented as himself." He almost smiled, but caught and hated himself. How could he _fucking smile_ when he thought of him?

Fallon looked like she was trying to take this all in. "Very powerful indeed, then," she muttered. "So what happened between you two? Why did you look so disgusted?"

Albus' breathing became shallow. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't say the words. Then he felt the gentle pressure of Gellert's letter against his thigh. He reached into his pocket and unfolded it. He smoothed it out for an unnecessarily long length of time. Now he was thankful he hadn't set it on fire. Wordlessly, Albus handed it over to Fallon, looking like a man walking to his execution. It cost him a great effort. As soon as she took it, he felt himself growing red. She would know. Oh God, she would know he was, as Aberforth eloquently called him, a_ fucking queer_, and worse, that he had delivered Ariana to her murderer. Albus resisted the urge to grab the paper out of her hands and rip it to pieces.

Fallon read over the letter in silence. Albus couldn't bear to look at her face, so he stared at his hands instead.

When she had finally stopped reading (it felt like years to Albus), she looked up and said, "Albus, oh Albus..."

He closed his eyes. He heard Fallon move closer to him. She took his hand again and Albus felt himself losing the battle to not cry.

"Look at me," Fallon said.

But Albus would not.

"Listen, I don't care that you're homosexual, if that is why you won't look at me," she said, sounding very much like a patient mother explaining something to her child. "It does not matter to me. Don't you remember what I said in sixth year?"

"Yes, but I was joking at the time," Albus managed. "I didn't actually think I was - you know -"

"You might have been joking, but I was not," Fallon said calmly. "Andrea is a moron, so of course you did not feel anything when she cornered you and kissed you around Christmas. You just thought you didn't enjoy it because she's a dreadfully stupid and self-absorbed girl, but the fact you didn't feel anything bothered you a bit even then, and you briefly wondered if she was right. I know you were a bit worried. Sometimes it just takes meeting the right person, and Gellert was the person who made you realize. I stand by what I said in sixth year. I don't care if you're homosexual. If you are, we can cry about men together. That is what I said. And you are. So what?"

Albus was finally able to look at her. "Gellert killed my sick sister."

"I know. It isn't your fault, Albus."

"But it is! Had I not been so much as friends with Gellert - if I had never brought him into this house -"

"Albus, you cannot go through life thinking everyone you meet is going to kill your sister!" Fallon exclaimed. "It wouldn't be sane to do so!"

"I should have seen it in him," Albus muttered. "I should have known."

"Maybe there were warning signs," she said, "and maybe there weren't. But it's irrelevant. I know you, Albus. We've been friends since second year. You wouldn't become romantically involved with just anyone. You weren't looking for a cheap romantic thrill. I think you were completely smitten. And guess what, Albus - love blinds people. It just does. The heart doesn't ask for permission - it just feels what it wants. You can only see the good. Actually, I think it is a good thing that you had feelings for him rather than just being friends, because love would explain why you _didn't_ pick up on any warning signs."

She was right. Albus knew she was right. Of course she was right. What she was saying made so much sense. He had loved Gellert and he had no idea why. He had fallen hard and fast. Deliriously so. And he still felt ashamed. So ashamed. But somehow, he felt better knowing that Fallon knew. It was as if she was carrying a tiny amount of the weight that he had been shouldering himself. A very small amount, but some weight, nonetheless...

They sat in silence for a long time and Albus knew she knew there didn't need to be words between them.

Finally, Fallon said, "What are you planning on doing now?"

Albus shook his head. "I have no idea. I am lost. I wish I could just numb it all."

"Well," Fallon said heavily, "that's the thing about loss and pain, Albus. It's better to feel it as soon as possible so that you can get it all out and start to heal. Numbing pain and postponing it only makes it worse when you finally do feel it."

She was right.

* * *

Albus had lived through lots of days by the time June 1996 came around. Thousands and thousands of days. But this night (morning?) was one of the very worst he had ever experienced.

He had not been at headquarters at the time Severus announced that he was afraid Harry had gone to the Department of Mysteries after Sirius when in fact Sirius was sitting in his living room. When Albus did receive word of what was happening, he had to figure out what was happening and how the events had come to this. He had had a nasty suspicion that Kreacher had something to do with this. He arrived in the Department of Mysteries moving faster than he had in a long time. He was too late though. The Death Eaters caught sight of him and started scrambling to get away. Sure, he had caught them. Sure, he managed to save Harry. Yet Bellatrix killed Sirius before Albus could stop her. He was only one person. He caught all the Death Eaters, and he did it at record speed, but it wasn't fast enough for Sirius. Bellatrix was the Death Eater who got away.

Albus saw Remus holding Harry back, who was shouting Sirius' name. Albus had to look away from the sickening sight as he continued to bind the Death Eaters. By the time they were all immobilized, he realized Remus didn't have Harry anymore. Harry had taken off after Bellatrix, which was a very bad thing indeed... But it did eventually lead to Fudge seeing Voldemort with his own eyes.

It took everything in Albus' power to not completely lose it with Fudge.

"Albus," Fudge said, his face pale, his hair messy, "you have to understand, I really thought you were wrong, and what am I going to do now? The Wizarding world is going to be furious with me - how am I going to -"

"Cornelius, I have no idea. You are going to announce that Voldemort is back in a couple hours or so. It's nearly morning. That's what you are going to do."

"But everyone is going to be furious with me! They might even demand I resign!"

"Yes," Albus said impatiently. "They probably will."

"Well," Fudge blustered, "well, do you think I can talk with Potter?"

"Why do you want to speak with Harry?"

Fudge wrung his hands, looking desperate. "He's - er - I think the - ah - _people_ will listen to him."

Albus was furious. "Cornelius, you are not using Harry to help you stay in office! Now, I have more important things to do - Harry is in my office all alone. This is your mess, not mine, and certainly not Harry's!"

"But - but -"

Albus ignored him and left, heading right to Harry.

Harry Potter was normally very stoic, but right now, he looked like he was on the verge of a violent outburst, and no matter what Albus said, it only seemed to make it worse. Harry was actually shaking with rage but Albus did not really begin to seriously worry until Harry started to demolish his office, all while shouting, "I DON'T CARE! I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE -"

Harry must have gotten tired of breaking the instruments one by one, so he instead picked up the whole table and threw it several feet until it smashed onto the floor and broke.

This was not good. This was not good at all.

"You do care," Albus said numbly. He didn't really know what he was trying to achieve by saying this, but whatever it was, he sure it wouldn't work because he could never do anything right. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."

"I - DON'T!" Harry screamed. His eyes flashed, the target of his fury had turned onto Albus, and Albus knew Harry was contemplating hurting him. Albus knew Harry wanted to attack him and shatter him too. Harry didn't understand what was going on inside him, but Albus did.

"Oh yes, you do. You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care."

"YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL!" Harry continued to scream. "YOU - STANDING THERE - YOU -"

The tides changed again within Harry. Now he was running away. Albus watched him as he turned on his heel and literally ran for the door. He tried to turn the knob, but it would not turn.

Harry turned back around. "Let me out," he demanded, his whole body shaking.

Let Harry out? Albus would die first. Harry was in a volatile state, both emotionally and mentally. Albus had watched him change from despair to anger, to violently breaking things, to wanting to hurt Albus, to wanting to run away within a span of a couple of minutes. Harry was unstable. Albus had no idea what Harry might do next. Nothing and no one in Harry's path was safe now, including Harry himself. Albus wasn't scared that Harry was going to hurt him. He didn't care how many objects Harry destroyed. He was scared Harry might hurt himself. This wasn't normal anger. This was anger coupled with grief and guilt. This was desperate anger. The scene was painfully familiar. The only difference was Harry had someone to see him through this.

"No," Albus said simply in response to Harry's demand.

Harry gaped at him. Albus doubted Harry understood the gravity of the words he had just shouted at his headmaster. '_I want out. I want it to end._' For all Albus knew, Harry might go running straight out of his office and pitch himself off the topmost tower of the school. He had_ no idea_ what Harry's grief might cause him to do, and he did not particularly want to find out. He would rather Harry continue to demolish his office where Albus could keep an eye on him.

"Let me out," Harry tried again.

Albus' response was the same.

He had hoped that he would have been able to tell Harry that everyone excluding Sirius would suffer no lasting damage from the night's events. He had hoped to simply tell Harry that Sirius' death was his, Albus', fault, and not Harry's. Albus wanted to transfer the blame off Harry onto him. Then he would explain Occlumency, not looking at Harry for a year, and why Harry had received the false vision of Siriius in trouble. He had hoped Harry would talk to him about how he was feeling, and then Albus in turn would say some words of comfort to help ease the pain. Then Albus would give him a dreamless sleep potion and send him off to bed.

It was becoming increasingly obvious Albus' hopes were not going to come true. He did not want to tell Harry about the prophecy. He avoided it yet again. It was a hope - a rather delusional hope - that Harry would ask no questions about the prophecy at all, and that he would just accept there was a mysterious prophecy about him and Voldemort.

"People don't like being locked up!" Harry shouted. Once again, he was angry with him. Once again, Harry was standing on his feet. "You did it to me all last summer!"

Albus put his face in his hands. It was true. He had kept the truth from Harry for too long. Harry was no longer a child that he could "protect" (just that word was laughable - he had done a horrible job at protecting Harry) any longer. Albus had to tell him... but telling Harry about the prophecy's contents just after his godfather was killed? _There is no perfect time_, he concluded. _Every time is a terrible time, and you've waited too long._

Albus slowly lowered his hands. "It is time for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me - to do whatever you like - when I have finished. I will not stop you." He meant it.

Harry seemed to consider this carefully before throwing himself back into the chair and waiting impatiently. Albus realized that Harry did not realize the magnitude of what was about to be revealed to him. Perhaps he had come to believe Albus would never tell him why Voldemort wanted Harry dead.

And so Albus told him. He told him about the prophecy. He told him why it had taken Albus so long to tell him the truth. Harry was slow to absorb this. He did not seem able to grasp the idea that he, Harry, was predicted to be the only boy who could ever stop Voldemort. Eventually, Harry took it. Albus did not really know how to comfort him. He was no good at this kind of thing. Harry was not crying but Albus was, silently, and Harry did not look up. Albus suspected Harry was simply either in took much shock, too tired, or both.

"I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry," Albus eventually said. "You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess... that I rather thought... you had enough responsibility to be going on with."

Harry looked up at him and finally saw the tears. Then Harry looked back down at his knees, appearing embarrassed. Albus couldn't help but see the humor in this situation. Harry was the one supposed to be crying here, not him.

They sat like this for several more minutes in silence. Albus wished he knew what was going on in Harry's head. Then it seemed like Harry had just given up. He leaned forward, put his arms crisscrossed on Albus' desk, and put his head down on his arms. Within a minute, Harry began to snore softly, and Albus realized he had fallen asleep.

Albus continued to sit in silence as he watched Harry sadly. He loved Harry, and he knew it was always the people he loved that were hurt by him. Albus never meant to do it. He wanted Harry to know that, but Albus was horrible at best at getting that message across to anyone. He loved Harry but he hurt Harry, and Albus knew he would _continue_ to hurt Harry in the future. He just prayed Harry will survive as he thought he will...

It was his fault Sirius was dead. If he had just told Harry about the prophecy, Harry would never have been lured there, and Sirius would not be dead. He had cut himself off from Harry in an effort to protect him. Harry might have gone to him, might have tried to talk to him first before running off, but Albus was gone, and there was no way for Harry to contact him. Even if he had not told Harry about the contents of the prophecy, he could have told Harry to not ever _go there_ at least. What the hell was wrong with him? Sirius would be alive if Albus had done it right.

Harry's expression became pained, and he started to groan faintly.

"Harry," Albus said, reaching across his large desk to shake his shoulder. "Wake up."

Harry lifted his head and looked confused for a moment. Then he took his hands off the desk, sat back in his chair, and put his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry," Albus said. "It looked like you were having a nightmare."

"Was," Harry murmured.

"I can get you a dreamless sleep potion. Do you want to take a dreamless sleep potion?"

"No," Harry said.

"Are you sure? It's no trouble -"

But Harry shook his head.

There was a pause.

"Do you want to talk, Harry?" asked Albus.

Harry shook his head again.

"All right. Well, if you want to sleep here, you can, but I can actually conjure a sofa or -"

"No," Harry said. "I'm fine. I can go to my bed."

"Are you certain? Really, you can stay, Harry."

"No, I'm fine," Harry repeated. "Just tired."

But he wasn't fine. Albus knew that.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up at him when Albus did not continue. His green eyes were watery and red.

"What are you going to do if I let you out?" Albus asked finally.

Harry's eyes scanned his face, looking a bit confused. Then he looked away, his expression and tone casual. "I'm going to go to the Gryffindor tower and go to sleep. Not hungry."

Either Harry was completely clueless about what Albus was getting at or he was being a good actor.

"Look at me," Albus said softly.

Harry's eyes met Albus'.

"Are you sure that's what you are going to do?" Albus said.

Harry nodded while looking completely nonplussed now, though he maintained eye contact. His anger was gone. He was obviously still hurting, but fatigue was winning. That dangerous destructive rage had passed. Albus used Legilimency to bore into Harry's mind. Harry was thinking of his bed in the dormitory and nothing else.

"All right," said Albus finally. He felt his heart clench as he tried to think of the right things to say. "Listen: I care about you, Harry, even though my past actions probably say something else. I love you. If you need anything from me - anything at all - you come back here and get me, no matter what the day or hour is. You don't have to go through this alone. I'm not going anywhere."

Harry nodded, looking embarrassed. Forty minutes ago, Harry had been the emotional wreck. Now it was Albus. Harry looked behind him at the broken table and instruments on the floor. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Please don't apologize to me."

Harry did not speak. He closed his eyes and looked like he was going to fall asleep again.

Albus flicked his wand and the door latch clicked open. "You may go, Harry. Get some sleep; sleep as long as you need. My door is always open to you."

But Harry did not visit Albus again, and Albus couldn't really blame him... this was going to be a difficult journey, to end Voldemort for good.

* * *

_A/N: An after note after I had already put this up... This entirely came from the little question of how well did Dumbledore really know how Harry was feeling? Dumbledore let this little known truth about himself slip in OotP: "I know how you are feeling, Harry." That little bit of truth about himself, coming from the man who said the deepest and most desperate desire of his heart was holding a new pair of socks. So, the question is... how well did Dumbledore correctly know how Harry was feeling? And out came this._


	10. 7th Horcrux

_**A/N**: Do you know what a lot of people forget about? The gleam of triumph thing in GoF. Also, can you imagine how freaky CoS was for Dumbledore? Like do you think he, at any time, was afraid Voldemort was using Harry to do his evils? I think the thought must have crossed his mind, though I am sure Dumbledore never doubted Harry's goodness.  
_

_Where have I been and why haven't I updated? Well, because my life is shit right now. I've been preoccupied with trying to fix it. I don't really like this chapter, and I thought about just ending this fanfic with the last chapter, but I wrote this a long time ago, and some of you might want to read it, so here it is. _

_**oh help: **You actually don't know how happy your review made me. Seems kind of crazy to realize that a lot of Harry Potter fans have not poured over JK Rowling interviews, but actually, I can understand why that would happen (the passing of time). I grew up with Harry Potter - I started reading it at the age of 9 in 1999. For years, I waited for "Book 5" (we didn't know its name then). Three years between GoF and OotP felt like 10 years. We all wanted to know what was going to happen! So I poured over each and every JK Rowling interview ever released for clues. The interviews hold a *lot* of information. The "research" I did for this fanfic was already done - I already knew it all and where to find it so I could quote JKR directly (mostly HP Lexicon). It's in my blood, and it all comes back to the tortuous waiting for the next HP book. Do kids these days know how good they've got it? When they want to know what happens next, they go to Barnes and Noble. I had to wait... for years... Right before Deathly Hallows was released, a man got arrested for stealing copies of the books from a book store at gun point. No, I'm serious. Before OotP, a talk radio show was sued for reading the first paragraphs of the book before it was released. People were desperate back then.**Nostalgic moment** _

_**Red Furry Demon**: The sex ed Hogwarts teacher should be Hagrid. Let's make it canon, JK Rowling. And holy crap. What is this hueco-mundo stuff you handed me? I don't know how to talent like that. Now you're making me read through this all when I have work in the morning! _

_**EvilFuzzy9**: I will take that as a compliment! Yeah, it definitely is pretty emotional. To be honest, I really see Dumbledore as someone who was emotionally self-destructive, especially in his younger years. We know he "despises" himself, and he never got over it. I can really see a teenage Dumbledore doing this to himself - he was filled with so much hatred for himself, but nobody knew it._

_**Hplover4ever3** \- Thank you! Yeah, most The Talk fics cannot be taken seriously - and many of them have no problem admitting they are for fun only - but I honestly tried to imagine Dumbledore being put in this situation. I think his fear tactic would work with any student other than Harry, because they know each other. Who gave Harry The Talk, by the way? Probably no one - poor boy._

* * *

**"I cared about you too much. I cared more for your happiness than you knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act. ... What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creature were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a person on my hands." **

**\- Albus Dumbledore, _Order of the Phoenix_, chapter 37**

**" ... For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore's eyes. But the next second, Harry was sure he had imagined it, for when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had ever seen him."  
**

**_Goblet of Fire_, chapter 36**

**"The [gleam of triumph] is still enormously significant. And let's face it, I haven't told you that much is enormously significant, so you can let your imaginations run free here. ... [Its reveal] is for [book] seven."**

**\- JK Rowling, 2005**

* * *

1981

After Harry, James, and Lily were temporarily living at Headquarters (their home could no longer be considered safe for the time being), Albus Dumbledore sat down and had a very difficult and lengthy conversation with them about the prophecy. It was one of the most difficult conversations he had ever had with anyone. They were sitting down at a small table in a tiny, dusty room that was usually unused. The faces of all three adults in the room were solemn as a the baby played with blocks in a corner.

"You have to understand," Albus said softly, "I usually do not deal with Divination or Seers or prophecies. It is not my area of expertise. This is why I went to the Department of Mysteries. There is a Hall of Prophecies there, and I spoke to an Unspeakable, and she was the one who told me all this. This is not some insane idea that I came up with -"

"We know it isn't, Albus," Lily said firmly.

"Absolutely," agreed James.

"What I don't get though is how Voldemort can think -" Lily stopped here.

The trio looked over at Harry before looking back at one another.

"Babies grow up, Lily," said Albus. "Voldemort wants to fulfill the prophecy before he can become a threat... and that's what we need to make sure does not happen." He sat back and sighed before continuing, "Voldemort's rise to where he is today is mostly a result of how he is able to infiltrate organizations in the most unlikely places. I fear a quarter of the Ministry is secretly working for him. I do not want to believe it, but I sometimes wonder when the day will come that a Death Eater or Voldemort sympathizer is here in the Order." He looked very seriously at the couple. "There are a few different options we can use, but I think the one that will be our best chance is the Fidelius Charm."

James looked like he had not heard of the charm before, but Lily's face lit up with recognition.

"Yes... but that means," she said slowly, "that we would have to find a Secret Keeper."

"I'm sorry, what is the Fidelius Charm?" asked James.

Albus explained the charm and its incantation with Lily chiming in occasionally.

"Oh, well that should be easy, isn't it?" said James, looking relieved. "Sirius can be our Secret Keeper."

Albus interlocked his fingers and thought this over in silence. Lily watched him in equal silence. Finally, Albus said, "Like I said, James, Voldemort's success is largely due to how he is able to win over unlikely people from unlikely places to his side. He has torn families and friendships apart. Many people are on his side - people no one would ever imagine to join him. I am not saying I think Sirius Black is a Death Eater; I think he is of good character, and usually my intuition is right. However, I am telling you to_ tread carefully_. I would gladly be Secret Keeper for you."

"No," said James immediately. "We're not doing that to you, Albus."

"James, it would not bother or inconvenience me in the slightest. I think it highly, _highly_ unlikely I would betray you or be captured and tortured to reveal the truth. I'm rather good with magic, you see."

"I know that," James said with a touch of impatience, "but I know Sirius would rather die than betray Lily and me."

"Yes, but James, the prophecy was made to Albus," Lily pointed out. "He is supposed to be Harry's protector and guide him to success, not Sirius."

"Oh sure," said James edgily, "I'm sure you would rather have _Snivellus_ as Secret Keeper, now that he's shown up and is playing the fearless hero."

Lily narrowed her green eyes to slits, and she shot her husband a look that Albus believed should strike fear in the hearts of anyone it was aimed toward.

Not really wanting to hear the couple bicker or get involved in their love triangle drama, Albus raised his right hand. "The choice is yours in the end. You do not have to make a decision today. Talk it over - maturely -" he added as he shot a look at James, "and then come to an agreement. Just know that I am offering because I care about all three of you. Harry is _your_ child, so it will be up to you both in the end."

"What happens if we..." Lily said slowly.

James winced. "Can't we talk about that another time?"

"No," said Lily, rounding on him, "we can't. So what happens if we - er - kick it and Harry's still alive?"

Albus did not bother telling her that he found it highly unlikely both Lily and James would be dead and Harry still alive, as Harry was a defenseless infant, and he knew James and Lily would rather die than hand their son over.

"Well, that's obvious, isn't it?" said James. "Then Harry's got Sirius. He's his godfather."

"The prophecy was made to Albus Dumbledore and not Sirius Black!" snapped Lily with a slight pound of her fist on the table.

Albus again raised his hand. "Should that happen, I will do everything in my power to make sure that Sirius takes care of Harry, if appropriate. It depends on the conditions. Harry is clearly attached to Sirius, and I know Sirius adores him; I wouldn't want to throw that away and leave Harry elsewhere."

It seemed like neither of them could argue with that, though they were still shooting each other malevolent looks.

"Can you at least agree that I will do my best if that happens?" Albus said with a touch of impatience.

"Yes," said James.

"Agreed," murmured Lily.

"All right," said Albus calmly. "I am glad we can agree on that. However, with your permission, I would prefer to put a couple charms on Harry."

"What kind of charms?" asked James, looking quizzically at Albus.

"Merely to keep tabs on him," said Albus quietly. "One, to know whether or not he is alive; and two, to know, roughly, where he is located in proximity to me."

It seemed neither of them could argue with that.

* * *

October 1992

There was something strange going on with twelve-year-old Harry Potter, and Albus had no idea what it was.

When Harry had finished his first year that June, Albus was completely awestruck with him. He had had high hopes for Harry Potter, but he never could have seriously imagined that he would have been this magnificent. He had battled Voldemort and was doing a damn good job at doing it too before Albus pulled Quirrell off Harry. Harry had delayed Voldemort's return to power at eleven years old. What was more was that he was modest, inquisitive, and polite - not at all big-headed or arrogant. He was perfect beyond what Albus could have hoped for.

But things seemed to have taken a disappointing and disturbing turn. First, Harry and Ron had flown a car to Hogwarts. It had seemed like they did it to show off, but after speaking with Harry, it seemed like they had no intention of doing so - they just wanted to get to Hogwarts, and the boys didn't have the best problem-solving skills, that's all (Hermione Granger wasn't with them). Nevertheless, it was a small blow.

Then Albus finds himself carefully watching a clearly lying Harry Potter on Halloween night. It was the strangest scene. Albus was staring, the trio seemed nervous, Argus Filch was sobbing and red-faced, Gilderoy Lockhart was bragging about his accomplishments in the background, there was a Petrified cat sitting at the table, Minerva was silent, and Severus was playing detective.

"But why not join the feast afterward?" Severus said with narrowed eyes. "Why go up to that corridor?"

Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry. Albus (and any parent or teacher) fully could tell that a lie was coming.

"Because - because -" Harry struggled as he tried to come up with a believable story (adolescents all look the same when they lie), "because we were tired and wanted to go to bed."

"Without any supper?" said Severus. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."

"We weren't hungry," Ron said loudly, his stomach growling.

Severus and Minerva started bickering over punishment. Albus was busy looking Harry up and down, using Legilimency as best he could (thank God that Harry looked at him directly). He saw nothing to suggest Harry had hurt the cat. There were no flashes of images happening in Harry's mind that showed him cursing the cat - only him finding it and looking at the writing on the wall - and Albus didn't believe any second year knew magic this dark and advanced anyway. However, Albus knew Harry was lying. Harry came up this corridor for a reason, and it wasn't because he was simply going to bed.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," said Albus firmly, maybe more decidedly than he really felt.

But it bothered him, and he wanted to be alone to think rather than try to calm down a furious Argus Filch who was demanding justice for his cat.

First of all, the prospect of the Chamber of Secrets being open again was _terrifying_. If the Chamber was once again open... the last time, a student had died, and Voldemort had framed Hagrid. The only reason the attacks stopped was because Voldemort did not want Hogwarts closed while he was still attending it. He knew Voldemort had been responsible just as surely as he knew his own name, though no one else believed him. Voldemort was not exactly empathetic to current students of Hogwarts; he would not care if the school was closed because his plan would be to overtake it shortly afterward anyway. However, Voldemort was supposed to be hiding in the forests of Albania now, a mere spirit, not even having a real body... He was far, far away from Hogwarts. Voldemort couldn't possibly be behind this, could he? It wasn't _probable_. It wasn't likely. Albus prayed that this was some kind of Halloween prank, but he had a very bad feeling about all of this...

_Is the Chamber of Secrets open again?_ That is the question that was the most terrifying. If the answer was yes, this was nothing short of catastrophic. Yet Albus was more disturbed by a different question.

_Why is Harry lying to me?_

* * *

December 1992

Albus couldn't deny it. Not anymore - not after Colin Creevey was Petrified just like Mrs. Norris. The million galleon question was, _how_ was Voldemort doing it? If Albus could answer that question, then he could stop it. Until then, Albus would be living on his toes, scared for the fate of his students and Hogwarts itself...

_Harry. Voldemort is doing it through Harry._

Albus cringed and put his face in his hands. He was sitting in his office. It was sunrise, but he hadn't slept. He didn't want to believe Harry was the answer to that question. Parts of this fit. Harry was definitely hiding something from him... yet, at the time of Creevey's attack, Harry had been tucked away in the Hospital Wing. It didn't make _sense_. There was something, _something_ going on with Harry, and Voldemort was definitely within the walls of Hogwarts again, but _how_?

No matter what the answer, Albus knew that Harry would never _willingly_ do Voldemort's bidding. Harry had stopped Voldemort last June. Albus had watched Harry from afar long enough to know that Harry would never do something so immensely evil as opening the Chamber of Secrets. But _unwillingly_... that was another story. Was Voldemort _possessing_ him? Or was he being controlled by the Imperius Curse? No, it can't be, neither of those theories could explain how Harry was both in the Hospital Wing and supposedly responsible for harming Creevey.

Albus wracked his brains for three hours straight before dozing off at his desk. He was eventually awakened by Severus bursting through the door.

"Albus!" exclaimed Severus, making Albus jump awake. "Potter is -" He paused and frowned at Albus, who was rubbing his face with his hands, trying to wake up. "Er - are you all right, Professor?"

"Yes," lied Albus. He doubted anybody believed that Professor Albus Dumbledore ever slept. Sleep was for the lesser weak mortals, not him.

Severus still had a hand on the doorknob. He tightened his grip on it, frozen, looking apprehensive. "Were you asleep?"

"No," Albus lied again. "What is it, Severus?"

Severus hesitated. Then he finally let go of the doorknob and walked slowly into the room. "That dueling club idea... Potter attended and... well, I've come to learn some disturbing information about Potter."

Albus' heart skipped a beat. "Such as?"

Severus peered around the office as if he had never seen it before, looking restless. "He's a Parselmouth."

Albus felt sick. As unlikely this revelation was, he believed Severus was correct. "How do you know this?"

"During a duel, a student conjured a snake. The snake went to attack, and Potter stepped right up and spoke to it. In Parseltongue. I've heard the Dark Lord speaking in Parseltongue hundreds of times to Nagini, and it definitely was true Parseltongue. The snake lowered itself, curled up, and looked meekly right at Potter, as if it was waiting for a command from him. It was... well, it made my skin crawl. I haven't seen anything like that since..."

Four letter expletives came to Albus' mind, but he didn't say them out loud. Instead, he just let out a slow breath and sat back in his chair.

Severus watched him patiently for a long time, waiting for an explanation, because Albus was supposed to have all the answers. When he didn't speak, Severus eventually said, "Well, what do you think of that?"

Albus swallowed. "Well... this disturbs me greatly."

Severus nodded. "Me too. I don't understand how it's possible. It's supposed to be genetic, correct? His _father_," he said in disdain, "never spoke Parseltongue. If he could, he would've bragged about it, and the whole damn school -"

"Severus," said Albus.

"All right, well, I'm sure _he_ couldn't speak it, and I _know_ Lily definitely couldn't, so where did Harry Potter get it from?"

"I have no idea," said Albus, although he did have a very nasty suspicion that he hoped was incorrect.

Long after Severus had left, Albus sat there silence. Harry could speak Parseltongue. He was not born with that ability; he had no genetic link to it. That could only mean that some of Voldemort had transferred himself into Harry. This terrified Albus to the core. He pleaded that it was only Voldemort's powers that were transferred into Harry and not something... else. The evidence that Voldemort was somehow acting through Harry was mounting, but Albus still had a difficult time believing it...

The next morning, Albus walked around his school invisibly, listening to the students. He had no clue what was happening anymore. Maybe they would.

The entire school thought Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin, a Dark Lord that Voldemort didn't want competing with him.

By mid-day, Justin Finch-Fletchley, the boy that the snake tried to attack at the dueling club, was Petrified.

* * *

Harry was waiting to talk to Albus in his office. Well, he wasn't exactly waiting by choice - Minerva had left him there. If Albus had held any belief that Harry may be responsible for the attacks, it was erased as soon as he walked through the door.

"Professor," Harry gasped. He looked frantic and scared, his face pale and his eyes wide. One would think Lord Voldemort had just materialized out of nowhere. "Your bird - I couldn't do anything - he just caught fire!"

Incredibly, Albus found himself smiling. This was who Harry truly was. Innocent, good-natured, and still very naive about the Wizarding world.

He tried to get Harry to talk. When Albus gently asked him if he wanted to tell him anything, "anything at all," Albus watched an explosion go off in Harry's mind. Harry held eye contact with him for a moment, and Albus could see flashes of what Harry was thinking. It was all too fast for him to really take in, but he did see that Harry and his friends were brewing what looked like Polyjuice Potion (why on earth were they doing that?). Albus was very disappointed when Harry mumbled, "No. There isn't anything, Professor..."

Harry was still lying. Albus knew better than to try to coerce him. He thought to himself that maybe distancing himself from Harry too much was not a good idea. Albus had planned to guide Harry invisibly and only come into contact with him very sparingly. Perhaps this had not been the best approach. Harry clearly was uncomfortable around him, and he definitely was afraid of telling Albus what was really on his mind. He probably should not have been as intimidating as he was on the night Harry and Ron came driving a car to Hogwarts. No, he had to win Harry's level of trust somehow.

"Well, Harry," said Albus in the same soft tone, "if anything does come to your mind later, please feel free to come talk to me. The password is always candy of some sort."

"Oh," said Harry quietly. "Right. Okay."

"Speaking of candy, do you want any?"

"W-what?"

"Candy, Harry. Do you want any?"

"Er... all right."

Albus smiled as he got out the box of sherbert lemons and offered them to him. He didn't need to use Legilimency to know that Harry was thinking: _Why the hell is Albus Dumbledore giving me candy?_

* * *

June 1995

"D'you - d'you know why my scar's hurting me?"

Harry was sitting in Albus' office. He had come to his headmaster's office willingly. He had not been assigned to visit. It had been two and a half years since Albus had offered Harry to come visit him if something is on his mind, and Harry had not come to him once. No, Harry solved all his problems and eventually answered all his questions on his own with the help of only his two friends. Albus adored Harry but he did not want him to casually drop in either, partially because Albus wanted to keep Harry in the dark about everything and partially because he did not want to get close to him. But here Harry was. Harry had told him that he had a dream about Voldemort - a dream that Albus was convinced was true. It must have really been bothering Harry for him to come and visit.

Albus gazed at him intently, not wanting to answer, as he tried to come up with an answer that both satisfied Harry's curiosity and didn't tell him too much.

"I have a theory, no more than that," Albus said finally. "It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."

That was a very unsatisfying answer, and Albus knew it.

"But... why?"

_Because dark magic leaves traces_. Albus was afraid that Voldemort was tied to life through Harry. He was afraid there was a tiny piece of Voldemort in him. Albus could be wrong, of course, but he was usually right... He prayed he was wrong here. He prayed Harry only had certain powers of Voldemort's. But after seeing the diary, Albus knew that whatever Voldemort had been doing when experimenting with immortality, it was sinister, and unlike something Albus had ever seen. Harry was looking into Voldemort's mind - he was sure of it. That was not normal. Linked minds meant something more than powers.

Instead of saying this, Albus took in a breath and then said, "Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed. That is no ordinary scar."

Harry was looking at him directly as if he was trying to discern what Albus was really thinking. The boy wanted answers, but Albus knew the real answers were most likely horrific. Harry also wanted to talk to him, though he was having some difficulty keeping a conversation up, because talking was never Harry's strength, so short sentences would be exchanged and then silence would resume. What Albus was thinking as he and Harry sat in silence was: _I can't do this. I can't do this. _

Albus eventually implied that Harry should go, and Harry quickly picked up on this and turned to leave. Then Albus couldn't stand the look of Harry walking away, so he stopped him and just looked at him for a moment. Albus knew something bad was about to happen, but he didn't know what it was, and he felt powerless to stop it. Even Alastor knew something horrible was going to happen, but with all his Auror training, not even he could figure it out. Albus eventually settled for wishing Harry luck with the third task._ Really pointless last words_, he thought to himself.

* * *

Albus did not know how Harry Potter was still alive. The past forty-five minutes had been absolute hell. Severus had come up to him looking as white as a sheet. Wordlessly, he had shown Albus his left forearm. The Dark Mark was black and burning as it had not in nearly fourteen full years. In equal silence, Albus looked at his watch with all the various hands on it, and he knew Harry Potter was very far away... away from the maze, away from Hogwarts... away from him. And wherever Harry was, Albus was certain was also Voldemort.

He was a wreck. There was only a very, very slim chance that Harry would come back to him alive. The prophecy would most likely be fulfilled tonight, and there was nothing Albus could do about it now. He did not send Severus because he knew that Severus would not be able to save Harry either. Albus had failed both the entire world and Harry, but when he put his face in his hands, he realized that it wasn't the world he felt bad for - it was Harry. He had let Harry enter that maze (binding magical contract be damned) and now, wherever he was, Albus could not save him.

Yet Harry had come back via the Portkey, clutching a dead Cedric Diggory with him. Albus knew he would never forget how he felt when he turned Harry over, expecting him to be dead, but then Harry opened his eyes. Albus felt relief greater than he ever had before. He felt like he had been given a second chance, and he had swallowed down a dry sob. He wanted nothing more than to pick him up and take him to his office, where he knew he would be safe. He never wanted Harry out of his sight again... but Cedric's parents were coming over, and their only child was dead. He couldn't let them discover their son's motionless body on the ground as he fussed over Harry (who was a bit bloody but in no life-threatening condition), so he told Harry to stay, against his better judgment.

It didn't take him long to realize who the traitor at Hogwarts was - or rather who the traitor was _pretending_ to be. Alastor Moody would never silently take Harry out of Albus' sight on a circumstance such as this without his direct permission.

So he followed them as "Moody" limped up the stairs.

He heard Barty Crouch Jr.'s story as Harry listened too nearby. The story made sense. Everything fit. It was disgusting and horrible, but all the puzzle pieces came together. The story Albus really wanted to hear, however, was Harry's - not because he thought it would be a pleasant story to hear, but because he was dying to know how Harry returned. Harry was a miraculous human being and a far better person than Albus ever was, but Harry was only slightly above average in his magical abilities. Granted, he was quite gifted in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he was still a far cry from where Voldemort was as far as magical powers goes. Was Albus wrong? Was Harry actually extremely powerful? Something funny had happened...

That night, Albus fully appreciated Sirius Black. Sirius had his flaws, but he clearly did love and care for Harry, and Albus was very glad that Sirius could somewhat fill the role of a parent. Why didn't Albus ever fulfill this role himself? Well, because Albus distanced himself from everyone, including Harry, whether this be out of cowardice or careful scheming, or both. Therefore, Albus was very glad Sirius was around. It took the pressure off him to be that comforting father figure. Yet even with Sirius present, Harry did not want to talk.

While Sirius sat down beside Harry, Albus situated himself at his seat with the large desk separating him from Harry (_like the coward I am_, thought Albus fleetingly).

"I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry," Albus said finally.

"We can leave that till morning, can't we, Dumbledore?" said Sirius harshly. "Let him have a sleep. Let him rest."

Sirius' heart was in the right place, but Albus had to decline. When Harry wouldn't look at him, Albus leaned forward and tried to make Harry meet his gaze. Very unwillingly, Harry eventually did.

Repeating the words that were once said to him, Albus said, "If I thought I could help you by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it."

Harry stopped direct eye contact and looked down slightly, but it appeared like he was carefully considering that little piece of Fallon wisdom.

"You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you," Albus continued, even though he did not know exactly what had happened. "I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened."

And so Harry did. It was slow-going; Harry was not a gifted speaker, but he was all he had. Albus listened with rapt attention, completely absorbed in what Harry was telling him. It almost felt as if he was there watching it unfold.

"First, Wormtail took the bones of Voldemort's father from his grave," Harry said in a monotone. "He said something like... the bone was being unknowingly given and that it would renew Voldemort. And then... and then Wormtail went over to the cauldron and..." Harry shuddered a bit. "Well, he cut off his hand and it fell into the cauldron. Wormtail said... 'The flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will awaken your master,' or something like that. And then Wormtail came over to me and he raised his dagger and sliced up my arm -"

Albus stood up so fast that Harry jumped, as Sirius exclaimed, "That fucking bastard!"

_Harry's blood..._

He strode over to Harry and asked him to stretch out his injured arm. Harry showed him.

"He said my blood would make him stronger than if he'd used someone else's," Harry explained. "He said the protection my - my mother left in me - he'd have it too. And he was right - he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face."

Albus felt dizzying relief so great that he felt like he nearly fell to the ground. That... that might give Harry a chance at life. Harry might actually make it. Harry's life was tethered to Voldemort so long as Harry's blood was flowing through Voldemort. Of course, Albus couldn't be certain - this was theory - but he _had_ to be right about this; he just knew it.

But Harry would, most likely, still have to let Voldemort hit him with _Avada Kedavra_ again. And Harry would have to think he was truly going to die.

That reminder made Albus feel like a wall of bricks hit him, so he resumed his seat across from Harry as he said, "Very well. Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue, please."

Harry went on. Voldemort emerged from the cauldron. He explained how Voldemort went around the circle and addressed each Death Eater one by one... Harry did not know the identity of many of the Death Eaters, but Albus thought he knew who each one was.

"Then he said... Voldemort said that he needed a way to get to me. He said, 'I can't touch him in his relations' care because of some ancient magic Dumbledore did.' He said he thought the World Cup might be better, because my protection would be weaker there, and he knew I was going to return to Hogwarts soon, and he can't touch me here either, because of you..."

Even though Albus knew Harry was not doing this to him on purpose, he still felt a pang of guilt. He had failed to protect Harry.

"He hit me with the Cruciatus Curse here," Harry went on (Albus took a tiny sharp breath here), "and then he told me he would give me a fair chance. He said it was just me and him, and that there was no you to protect me and no mother to die for me. So Wormtail untied me and gave me back my wand, and we prepared to duel..."

Albus felt enormous anticipation mounting, and he was hardly breathing anymore. He noticed that Sirius was unusually still as well. Harry took no notice; there was no hint of bragging.

"He mocked me then. He said, 'You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?' He told me to bow to death, that you would've wanted me to show manners, and the like. Well, I didn't, but he used his wand and made me. He threw the Cruciatus Curse again, and then he lifted it and tried to get me to say 'stop.' I didn't. So then he tried the Imperius Curse to make me say I didn't want him to do that again. I told him I wasn't going to say no. He didn't like that, and the Death Eaters stopped laughing."

Albus wanted to interrupt him here to say something, but he let Harry continue. Barty Crouch Jr. had already told him that Harry could fight the Imperius Curse.

"That's when I started fighting back, I guess. He tried to hit me with _Crucio_ again, but I dodged it by tumbling behind a gravestone. He started mocking me again, and I just thought... well, there's nothing I can do, it's hopeless, but I wasn't going to die hiding - I was going to die fighting. So I stood up and raised my wand and pointed it at Voldemort."

Albus wasn't breathing at all now.

"I said... '_Expelliarmus_!' and Voldemort shot _Avada Kedavra_ at me. But then something weird happened. There was a jet of red light from my wand and a green jet of light from Voldemort's and... the beams met in midair. The wands connected and the single beam turned gold. Voldemort and the Death Eaters started - er, well - freaking out and no one knew what to do, but I knew to keep holding onto my wand... Voldemort became scared..."

Ah, now that makes sense... He had forgotten that Voldemort's wand and Harry's wand were brothers. Albus felt a slight tinge of disappointment, but nevertheless... Voldemort's blood was Harry's blood now, and Harry was _alive_...

* * *

December 1995

Minerva had brought Harry straight to him in the middle of the night. Albus was not thrilled at this. He wasn't supposed to meet Harry's eyes.

"Professor Dumbledore," Minerva said, "Potter has had a... well, a nightmare."

A feeling of dread overtook him.

"He says," Minerva tried to continue, but Harry cut across her.

"It wasn't a nightmare," he said.

Minvera frowned. "Very well, then, Potter, you tell the headmaster about it."

"I... well, I was asleep," said Harry, sounding terrified. "But it wasn't an ordinary dream... it was real... I saw it happen... Ron's dad - Mr. Weasley - has been attacked by a giant snake."

Albus leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, not wanting to believe that Harry was sharing the mind of Voldemort, who was, supposedly, possessing Nagini. _Oh please, please let it be just a nightmare..._

"How did you see this?" asked Albus eventually, still looking at the ceiling and not at Harry.

"Well... I don't know," said Harry, sounding angry now. "Inside my head, I suppose -"

"You misunderstand me. I mean... can you remember - er - where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?" Albus asked hopefully.

Harry was silent for a moment. Albus wished he could look at him directly so he could see his expression.

"I was the snake," Harry said finally. "I saw it all from the snake's point of view."

Then the dream was real... and Harry was... Harry had a piece of Voldemort in him... Albus felt his heart breaking into a million little pieces. The evidence kept mounting. It was becoming more and more impossible to argue otherwise... Then he remembered that Arthur was injured. It disturbed Albus how quickly he was when it came to caring about Harry and not caring about others whose lives were potentially on the line. Why was his heart breaking over Harry and not Arthur Weasley, who was potentially bleeding to death?_ Because you love Harry_, a little voice in his mind said. Even after half a year of not looking or speaking with Harry, the damage had been done long ago. He would never be able to undo that.

* * *

April 1997

Albus sat down behind his desk and tried to collect his thoughts. Harry landed back into the room, and he had the sense to sit down and wait for Albus to speak.

Minutes ago, he had been happy. Harry had obtained the memory from Slughorn. Albus had known Harry could do it if he set his heart in it, but he was still floored that he had actually succeeded where Albus himself had failed. But now... now Albus was feeling awful. _Horcrux_. That was the name of the piece of Voldemort that was living inside Harry. A piece of Voldemort's very soul was latched to Harry's. Albus had known, for a long time, that Voldemort was in Harry somehow, yet still, the thought of Voldemort's soul sitting in the exact same chair as Harry made him sick. He had suspected Voldemort had split his soul, but to hear that he truly had and that his soul was in Harry... It was a parasitic growth - a darkness that could only be destroyed if Harry's body was damaged... but Harry's blood was also in Voldemort now, so that most likely would keep Harry alive... and the souls would be split apart. The Parseltongue Harry could speak was actually Voldemort's soul coming through. Voldemort's soul was in this room...

Harry was an unintended Horcrux. The soul isn't meant to split - especially not as many times as Voldemort split his. His soul had become unstable, and it latched onto Harry as a baby when the Killing Curse rebounded... The diary had been a Horcrux... and so was the ring...

"I have been hoping for this piece of evidence for a very long time," he heard himself finally tell Harry. "It confirms the theory on which I have been working, it tells me that I am right, and also how very far there is still to go..."

Did he tell Harry he thought that Harry himself was an unintended Horcrux? Definitely not. He didn't want Harry walking around knowing something terrible like that until the last moment possible.

The conversation went well, considering Albus now knew for sure he was going to ask Harry to let Voldemort hit him with _Avada Kedavra_ again. It killed him knowing this, but Albus knew fully well he was - and always would be - playing chess with everyone's lives for_ the greater good_, and not for Harry, which disgusted Albus about himself to the core. _Albus wasn't in it for Harry, _even though he wished he was.

It was when Harry said that he _had_ to try to kill Voldemort due to the prophecy. That bothered Albus a great deal. _No._ No, Harry didn't have to go through with this. He didn't _have_ to walk to his death. Albus wasn't going to _make_ him - Harry was going to do it on his own accord. Albus had to hold onto this thought to keep himself sane. He couldn't bear to think that he was actually _making_ Harry go through with this. No, no, no, no - he couldn't live with guilt like that -

"You see, the prophecy does not mean that you _have_ to do anything!" Albus was ranting as he paced up and down in front of a bewildered Harry. "But the prophecy caused Lord Voldemort to_ mark you as his equal_... In other words, you are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But Voldemort continues to set store by the prophecy. He will continue to hunt you... which makes it certain, really, that -"

"That one of us is going to end up killing the other," said Harry. Albus could hear the understanding in his voice. "Yes."

_You don't have to do this, Harry - I'm not making you do this - you're doing this because you want to - it's not because of me - please, I'm not making you walk to what might be your death..._

_I don't think I can do this to you anymore, Harry... _

There was a very long silence in which Harry sat looking thoughtful, and Albus tried not to cry. Harry was, of course, oblivious to Albus' true feelings.

Finally, Albus asked, "How did you manage to procure that memory, Harry?"

Harry smiled. "I used Felix Felicis that I won at the beginning of the year from Professor Slughorn. Hagrid and Slughorn - they're, uh, both passed out drunk right now. I don't think Professor Slughorn will remember giving up the memory at all."

After a moment of silence, Albus said, "Incredible."

"Incredible that it actually worked, sir?"

"No, it is incredible that a sixteen-year-old boy used Felix Felicis to help bring down a dark wizard rather than using it for something else."

Harry's eyebrows came closer together, and he looked like he was carefully considering something.

"Well, I didn't use all of it," announced Harry eventually.

"And I am positive you will use the rest for something equally constructive as this time," Albus said, giving him a sharp look.

"Yes, Professor."

"Now go to bed and get some sleep."

"Yes, Professor."

Harry left looking triumphant.

_No, I definitely can't do this to Harry anymore..._

* * *

_A/N: Next is Grindelwald again, I think. I have one last idea._

_Why did I have Dumbledore place charms on Harry at the beginning? I did this because it is a logical explanation to a dilemma previous Harry Potter fans have pointed out: How did Dumbledore know Harry was still alive after his parents were killed? He knew somehow, and he sent Hagrid to fetch him. Also, Dumbledore's watch... I don't know if anyone's noticed, but I've made it that Dumbledore can tell roughly where Harry is in proximity to him via his watch. In the first chapter of the first book, Dumbledore looks at his watch as he was waiting for Harry, and he comments, "Hagrid's late." Now, of course, he might have just been looking at the time, but I made it he was also looking at how far Harry was. In CoS, Dumbledore knows immediately that Harry is at the Burrow because he "doesn't miss a trick, that man." It's like Mrs. Weasley's clock, kind of. Okay, I'm rambling, good night everyone._


	11. Stopping Grindelwald Part 1

_A/N: I'm glad JK Rowling made the change and kept Grindelwald alive for DH, aren't you? The interview is at the bottom._

_And yes, Grindelwald and Hitler were connected, and Dumbledore did "have a hand" in ending WWII. That's canon as The Queen has said. But this topic makes me feel sort of... uncomfortable... because now fanfiction is getting involved in actual history. In my opinion, WWII was humanity at its darkest and most disturbing. I almost feel like it is disrespectful to write about it in a fanfiction because it is so out of place. I mean, fanfiction is a place for dark wizards with pink fingernails and not for real events. Therefore, I keep actual history at a minimum without disregarding it altogether. It's mentioned, but not in great detail. Maybe I'm saving this for last because some of you might be so mad you won't read any more. :/  
_

_Short chapter this round._

_**Brigid** \- Thank you! :D I'm glad you loved it. _

_**8-Wolke-8** \- Aw, thanks! I love Harry and Dumbledore, but it is quite the challenge to write. So much of Harry-Dumbledore has already been filled in by the books, because of course, it's from Harry's point of view. The only thing I have is Dumbledore's perspective. And yeah, I do think that Dumbledore definitely feared Voldemort was acting through Harry. He had to have known something was going on with Harry. He had to have known Harry had been lying about Mrs. Norris and being in that corridor on Halloween. And I think he suspected Voldemort was living through Harry from very early on. I'm positive Dumbledore knew Harry spoke Parseltongue after the Dueling Club fiasco. It only makes sense that the thought of Voldemort acting through Harry crossed his mind. And it wouldn't have been an illogical guess. Though of course, I am sure he never thought Harry was doing it on purpose..._

_**Red Furry Demon** \- Dumbledore totally knew early on that Voldemort was living inside Harry. I am convinced. To me, this actually makes it more heartbreaking. I think Dumbledore knew early on that Harry's chance of survival wasn't that great, but he still came to love him anyway. I think that by the end of CoS, Dumbledore was probably thinking Harry was a goner, but then Voldemort used Harry's blood, and that changed the game. I think Dumbledore thought to himself... 'don't get attached, don't get attached,' but then it happened anyway... Honestly, I like the idea of Dumledore monitoring Harry with all kinds of spells and magical instruments. It may be a dark Dumbledore thing, but I definitely agree that it was a thing. I think, as a character, Dumbledore always got all up in the business of everyone, even your average person. He has eyes all over the place. So for Harry, yeah, he's going to watch him even more closely. Dumbledore said, "I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined." Kinda creepy, but yeah. He's got that kid monitored. _

_**EvilFuzzy9** \- Thank you! You know, it's funny - I think that despite all Dumbledore asked of Harry, Harry thought of Dumbledore as a remarkably good person, and Dumbledore thought of Harry as a remarkably good person. Harry was one of Dumbledore's biggest fans, and I think Dumbledore was the biggest Harry Potter fan of all time, even more than 10-year-old Ginny or Colin Creevey. Dumbledore felt like Harry was the best person who ever walked the earth, he truly loved him, but he also used him and felt guilty doing it... As for Nagini, I had to look it up, and I found that there is no known time of when Voldemort acquired Nagini. I like to think he had her for a long time, but maybe not. Maybe you were thinking of a really good fanfic? _

* * *

_**"Have you blood on your hands? Do you dream of white sands? Can you sleep well at night? Have you done all you can? I see innocent blue eyes go blind every day."**_

_**\- Stereophonics**_

_**"'Oh, now, I'm glad you mentioned Grindelwald,' says Skeeter with a tantalizing smile. 'I'm afraid those who go dewy-eyed over Dumbledore's spectacular victory must brace themselves for a bombshell - or perhaps a Dungbomb. Very dirty business indeed. All I'll say is, don't be so sure that there really was the spectacular duel of legend. After they've read my book, people may be forced to conclude that Grindelwald simply conjured a white handkerchief from the end of his wand and came quietly!'" **_

_**\- Rita Skeeter, Deathly Hallows, chapter 2 **_

* * *

**1996**

He knew what people said about him behind his back.

_Great man, Dumbledore. He's dedicated his entire life to protecting Muggles and Muggle-borns. He uses his powers only for good. He defeated Grindelwald in a spectacular duel._ That was what they said. Only he knew it wasn't true - a collection of mere half-lies at best. Maybe this was what it was like when you are the "greatest in the world." Only the greatest in the world knows legends are not the same as truth. Maybe only giants know how small they are.

* * *

**1928**

Albus knew Gellert's speech by heart. He had heard it a thousand times. It seemed Gellert was trying to make sure everyone in the Wizarding world knew his speech too.

"Albus, have you ever heard of Grindelwald?"

He looked up to see Professor Steven Milan holding a newspaper. Albus already knew what article Milan was reading over.

"Never heard of him," said Albus bluntly.

"Well, he gave this speech in New York City last week," Milan went on. "I think he's brilliant. He's definitely got the right idea about matters."

Albus sat in waiting at the staff table. Two other professors were sitting in the room listening. He was pondering how much information he could take from Professor Milan.

"See, he has this plan," explained Milan. "He came up with it himself; he's an absolute genius. The plan would completely change the world. But not just _our_ world or the _Muggle_ world - the entire world, singular. He says that the Statute of Secrecy is madness - insanity. Grindelwald explains it better - listen here to what he said -" to Albus' extreme displeasure, Milan cleared his throat and began to read directly from the newspaper article -

"'The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy does more than just divide Wizards and Muggles,'" said Milan (it felt to Albus like Gellert had just Apparated into the room). "'It stifles the Muggle world, snuffing out any chances of them having a better future. I can tell you that Muggles are just as human as any witch or wizard. They feel just as we do, and they deserve so much more than the Statute of Secrecy. The Muggles are suffering. They are dying on the streets of illnesses any witch or wizard could cure with the flick of a wand. Why do we continue to allow this to happen? If you do not believe me, I challenge you to visit any large city and wander into Muggle dwellings. They feel pain. They feel hunger. They feel hopelessness. Are you hearing me? The Muggles are _suffering_. Does this mean nothing to us? They are hurting and dying because Wizardkind has turned its back on them, and we pretend we are doing it for the good of the Muggles, but nothing could be further from the truth. We are doing it out of our own selfishness. We have cut off the inferior rung of society because we believe there is nothing that they can do for us. This is the Wizarding World's greatest sin. I propose we unite the world under one logical and naturally-ordered society where Wizardkind helps Muggles for the greater good, not because the Muggles can do something for us in return. I propose all people unite with an understanding that the world needs all people to function well, including the lower rungs of the ladder. I propose wizards rule over the Muggles in a virtuous fashion -'"

"Steven, you cannot possibly believe this nonsense, can you?" Albus snapped.

Milan blinked at him. "Excuse me? I think it sounds very logical to me. Why not help the Muggles if we can?"

"It isn't about helping the Muggles," said Albus impatiently. "The 'helping them' angle is just to distract from the main purpose. He's proposing that we rule over Muggles in exchange for our so-called assistance."

"What's so wrong about that if it helps them?" said Milan with a confused look on his face. "I thought you cared about the Muggles, Albus. You always stand up for them. And anyway, Grindelwald believes in giving the Muggles as much freedom as they can cope with. He wants to establish a _benevolent_ global order. See, you haven't heard the whole speech -"

These words sparked a fury in Albus. He didn't even listen to the rest of what Milan said after that. He had heard the whole speech. In fact, he had helped write it twenty-nine years ago. Albus stood to his feet rather suddenly with the chair's legs scraping against the polished floor.

"You shall see," said Albus flatly. "One day. He's not the well-intentioned idealist he claims he is."

Ignoring the stares, Albus gathered his papers and walked away. Before the door closed behind him, Albus heard Milan say, "Whatever was that about?"

* * *

**1941**

To say that the news became worse with each passing day would have been an understatement. Albus wished he didn't know... but he did know. He knew all about everything. The newspaper that sat in front of him read, in large, bold, all-caps letters: _**GRINDELWALD JOINS HITLER**_.

"You should understand," Gellert from the newspaper said, "I had never planned on killing off any amount of Muggles. However, my original plans date back to the 1890s. We are in a different age than we were then. There is an extreme surplus of Muggles today, and the population keeps growing at an exponential rate. The Muggles have evolved as a people. They are not dying at the rates they used to thanks to their advancements in what they call 'science.' This is both a blessing and a curse. While I am glad the Muggles are developing their own version of magic, it should also alarm the Wizarding world. They are becoming increasingly difficult to control. Their population is expanding too quickly. They are developing weapons, medicine, and inventions that are all very foreign to us. If the Wizarding world is going to gain control of the Muggles, we need to do it soon. Otherwise, I fear they will override us. Do you want Muggles ruling the world? Of course not. And now that there are so many of them - with many being inferior and unworthy of life - well, it only makes sense to weed out the worthless ones. It may sound cruel, but the logic is undeniable. That is why I am joining forces with Hitler. The lesser Muggles are being euthanized in a completely humane way. Once they are weeded out, their genetics will be cleansed. Then we will only have a smaller number of higher-caliber Muggles to oversee. It lightens the workload for us all."

"Hitler says that those unworthy of life," the reporter said, "include the mentally or physically disabled, homosexuals, anyone other than the Nordic race, peoples of certain religions -"

"Look, they are fair about it," Gellert interrupted indignantly. "If the parasitic life forms can perform work, they are sent to concentration camps to do labor. If they can't even perform manual labor, what is the point of keeping them alive? They waste money and resources, and God forbid these people reproduce more of them. Hitler isn't having people killed just for the fun of it. It is a mercy to kill these unfortunate and inferior people. It is a mercy death, and it has been carried out successfully for two years now. Anyone with half a brain cannot deny the logic of it. This is about final solutions."

"Don't they use crematoriums to kill these so-called inferior Muggles?" said the reporter.

"Don't be ridiculous," replied Gellert. "Of course they don't. That is a fabrication."

Albus stopped reading and put his face in his hands. He was sitting in his office by himself. It was late at night. He was crying. Up until this point, he had been hopeful that the Muggles would have been able to stop Hitler on their own, but now with the assistance of Gellert Grindelwald... It was a nightmare. Two immensely evil leaders working together - one for the Muggle world, one for the Wizarding world... Them being fused together was the worst possible outcome Albus could think of, and the Muggles didn't even know anything about Gellert...

He glanced back at the article again.

"There are a lot of Muggles who are trying to kill Hitler," said the reporter. "Aren't you afraid you might get killed by the Allies?"

Gellert reportedly laughed here - and Albus could almost hear it. "No, I'm not scared of the Muggles. And I'm not scared of any wizard either."

Barely believing what he was reading, Albus read the interviewer said, "Not even Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Gellert had laughed again. "Not even Dumbledore. I'm not scared of school teachers. You tell him I have good reason to not be afraid of him."

The reporter asked why.

"Not telling, but he'll know what I mean, him being the genius he is," answered Gellert.

The article abruptly ended there. The interview was over.

After all those discussions they had had about the Elder Wand and how idiotic it was to boast about it for the world to hear, Gellert was bragging about having found it, only he was smarter than the average Elder Wand holder. Gellert did not say the words "Elder Wand." He did not even mention a wand or having any other kind of weapon. Yet Albus still knew Gellert was referring to having the Elder Wand. Albus also fully understood that Gellert knew he would read this article. He was convinced that Gellert had just directly told him, "I have the wand, so don't get any ideas about trying to stop me," but he had done it in a way that no one knew it.

If Gellert had the Elder Wand, which Albus was convinced he had, there was no point in trying to stop him. The Elder Wand is unbeatable. All those summers ago, when he and Gellert had traced the history of the Elder Wand, Albus remembered that there was no instance in known history where the Elder Wand was beaten in a duel and taken from the owner. The Elder Wand was not won honestly. It was beaten by cowardly murder, backstabbing, never a fair fight...

The worst part was nobody knew. Not the Muggles... not even the wizards. Just him. There was no hope for Albus to win any duel with Gellert Grindelwald... and _nobody knew_.

* * *

**January 1945**

"We can't find him."

Those are the words that hung in the air of the Ministry of Magic. The Head of the Auror Department was giving a speech in the middle of the gigantic entrance to the Ministry. Albus felt the people stirring around him. People looked around at one another muttering and shaking their heads. There was no hint of anger in the crowd. The only emotion that could be felt was despair.

"We only know that he is on the move," the Head Auror continued. "Wherever Grindelwald is, we know he is well-guarded. As for Hitler, it is a safe assumption that Grindelwald is keeping him hidden as well, though we do not think they necessarily are in close proximity to one another often. Without Grindelwald's death or capture, I cannot imagine the Muggle Allies defeating Hitler."

A woman standing directly in front of Albus turned around to walk away from the crowd. There was despair in her eyes, yet they were still quite dry. She met Albus' eyes for a moment before breaking eye contact and walking away. Albus didn't think she even registered who he was, but he still felt as if she had looked at him accusingly. The Head Auror looked over at him as well, briefly. Albus stood rooted to the spot until he could bear it no longer. He retreated back to Hogwarts - more specifically, his Transfiguration office - where their accusing eyes couldn't pierce him.

He cried himself asleep that night._ They can't find him._ Albus knew the world couldn't fix this problem on its own. He had to do something, but he didn't yet know what.

* * *

**February 1945**

"Oh, it's you, Albus," said Armando Dippet. He did not sound enthused. "What is it that's on your mind, friend?"

Albus did not speak at first. He could not summon the energy yet. He looked exhausted; there were great dark circles under his eyes, and he had not slept well in weeks.

"What's happened?" Armando said, appearing so alarmed that it looked as if he was about to rise from his desk's seat. "This isn't about how you think Riddle is evil, is it?"

"No," Albus said with a touch of annoyance. Then his expression went back to somber. "It's... there's something I have to do, Armando. Unfortunately, it means I will have to be taking a bit of a leave from my post as Transfiguration teacher." He did not meet the headmaster's gaze as he said this.

There was a long moment of silence as Albus looked pained and Armando's eyes widened.

"Albus," said Armando very softly, "please, don't do this. Forget about Grindelwald. You are needed here."

When Albus did not deny he was speaking of Grindelwald, Armando started to plead.

"Al, come on, you can't do this - don't throw your life away like this! Don't you realize that you are the reason Grindelwald hasn't tried to invade Britain?"

"Hitler -"

"I'm not talking about Hitler, I'm talking about Grindelwald, Albus! You're what is keeping him out! You can't - please, Albus, stop this - you can't leave me here - Hogwarts will be invaded within a day -"

"No, it will not," said Albus calmly. "I am going to ensure that Grindelwald never sets foot in Hogwarts. Trust me, I know what I am doing."

"No, you don't!" shouted a distressed Armando. "Albus, you can't beat him - he'll kill you and then where will that leave us? We'll be helpless to stop him without you here!"

"I see," said Albus angrily. "So you are saying that it is acceptable if thousands of defenseless men, women, and children are killed in neighboring lands, so long as it is not happening here?"

"Now, I don't mean it like that -"

"Yes, you do!" Albus said loudly. "I am sorry, Armando, but I cannot sit by comfortably in my office and not do anything to help those who are being slaughtered across the rest of the world. I can't do it! I've made up my mind. Will I die? Well, there certainly is a good chance, but it is a chance I have to take. Do you really think Grindelwald will let Hogwarts function independently while the rest of the world falls under his control? Of course he won't. He may be saving Britain and Hogwarts for last, but he still fully intends to rule over the entire world. I might as well face him now while I can still die with a sliver of honor. It is shameful that I have waited this long to do this."

Armando looked stricken. "Al, please, you don't understand... and how are you going to find him anyway? The entire world is looking for him - what makes you think you can find him when no one else can?"

But Albus shook his head. He took in a deep breath and let it out shakily. "I have connections. And as I've said, I have already reached my decision. I am only telling you out of courtesy, not because I am seeking your advice. Do not believe everything you read in the papers these coming days."

The door closed behind Albus, and he set off into the night. He thought briefly of stopping in on his brother and telling him what he was about to do, telling him how very sorry he was for everything that had happened forty-six years ago... but Albus had not spoken to Aberforth since Ariana's funeral. He didn't think he could bear to have Aberforth look at him directly. The only thing that scared Albus more than facing Gellert again was facing his younger brother, so Albus walked on about thirty-five percent certain he was going to die at the hand of the man he used to love.

Albus returned to his home away from Hogwarts and retired for the night, not wanting to think about what he was going to have to do.

The next morning, he awoke very reluctantly. It wasn't even morning anymore. Technically, it was late afternoon. He tried to sleep more but couldn't, so he gave up and set about staring that Gellert's last letter to him. He had saved it. It was the letter he had received when Fallon and Elphias were sitting in his living room shortly after his pathetic attempt at suicide.

_Should you ever want to join me in search of the Hallows, you are welcome to contact me. ... This offer stands no matter how many years pass by, Albus. _He stared at these words, written in Gellert's elegant handwriting. Albus had been so stupid back then. So stupid. Gellert had preyed upon his ignorance and trusting nature. He had manipulated him and lied to him. He had played with Albus' mind and heart as if Albus was born solely for Gellert's use. Albus had lead Gellert straight to the Elder Wand, and even today, Gellert was still playing mind games via newspaper interviews. He had let Albus know that he was in possession of the Elder Wand - had warned him against trying to stop him. But now... now, it was payback time. Now, Gellert would be the blind one.

However, Albus knew that Gellert has never been as stupid as his teenage-self had been. Gellert was intelligent. Albus did not expect Gellert to really believe what Albus was telling him. Fortunately, it did not matter if Gellert remained suspicious. He could be as suspicious as he wanted, so long as he gave Albus his location. Albus would put on a good performance. Gellert's former prey was now turning into the hunter, and Gellert - well, he was now the hunted.

Was this cowardly of Albus? Certainly. This would not be a fair fight. It would not be honest nor honorable. However, given the fact that the lives of countless millions of people were resting on Albus' success, something as luxurious as _honor_ was not important. It didn't matter if Albus cheated and lied. He knew he would never win an honest fight against Gellert's Elder Wand. Honor and fairness was not something Albus nor the world could afford.

Therefore, Albus sat down and began to write a letter. Then he wrote another draft, and another, and another, and another. He wrote forty-seven drafts over the span of four hours until he was satisfied. Then he wrote a letter to the _Daily Prophet_, requesting that they please print an article... nothing on the front page (that would be too suspicious), but just a little blurb... Two could play the game of communicating to each other indirectly via newspapers.

He knew he would be walking into the most difficult and horrible situation he had ever been in his entire life, but it should be quick. Albus was quite convinced he himself was just as evil to the core as Gellert was, but now, Albus was going to use his dark past for good... Albus had helped design Gellert's dark movement, and by having done so, only he could stop it.

* * *

_A/N: Update - don't worry, I won't leave you hanging here! There will be another one, though I am not sure when._

**The Stuff:**

**Interview #1 (2005)**

_**Question**: Are you implying that Dumbledore had a hand in ending the Second World War by his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald -_

_**JK Rowling**: In 1945. I may well be implying that._

**Interview #2 (2005)**

_**Emerson**: Is [Grindelwald] dead? _

_**JK Rowling**: Yeah, he is. _

_**Emerson**: Is he important?_

_**JK Rowling**: Ohh..._

_**Emerson**: You don't have to answer, but can you give us some backstory on him? _

_**JK Rowling**: I'm going to tell you as much as I told someone earlier who asked me. ... He asked me, 'Is it a coincidence that he died in 1945?' and I said no. It amuses me to make allusions to things that were happening in the Muggle world, so my feeling would be that while there's a global Muggle war going on, there's also a global wizarding war going on. _

_**Emerson**: Does he have any connection to - ?_

_**JK Rowling**: I have no comment to make on that subject._


	12. Stopping Grindelwald Part 2

_A/N: This was really difficult to write. I had toyed around with the idea of writing this as a separate fic of how Dumbledore stopped Grindelwald, but I decided to include it in here. I have had this idea in my mind for a long time - since before I started writing this. Again, I do not think this happened in canon, but I think it very possible. _

_One problem I have with the traditional route of Dumbledore just going and stoping Grindelwald one day is how... uh... dumb Grindelwald would've had to be to agree to it. I don't think Gellert was ever stupid. Why would you agree to battle a wizard capable of stopping you? He wouldn't, in my opinion. He wouldn't be so careless. Can you imagine Dumbledore sending a letter saying, "I want to stop you" and then Grindelwald saying, "Let's do this. My address is ..." Doesn't fit. Also, we know Dumbledore was completely knowledgeable about the Elder Wand. He would've known it was called the unbeatable wand._

_Again, I feel this topic is too dark for fanfiction, yet I think Grindelwald has to be seen this way. A problem I have is a lot of people tend to think of Gellert as a... misunderstood idealist. I really don't think Grindelwald was an OK person. Remember, he was considered the darkest wizard of the century until Voldemort came to "steal the crown from him." I think Grindelwald could disguise himself as a good person very, very well (something Voldemort was not as successful in), but he is still horrendously evil. That's what makes Grindelwald more sinister to me than Voldemort (and, to be honest, I think Grindelwald is a better villain)._

_**Sue Clover** \- I honestly don't give Dumbledore bashing fics much of a chance. They just make me so mad! So I honestly can say I do not read them often. Thank you though, I'm glad you like seeing into Dumbledore's mind - his doubts, fears, decisions, self-loathing, etc. This entire fic is just how I see him as a complicated character... And don't worry! You'll see how Dumbledore beats Grindelwald, though I'm kinda scared of writing it. _

_**Reader AZ** \- Thank you! I'm honestly surprised how many people hate continue to hate Dumbledore. As for the Albus was supposed to be watching Ariana thing - I came up with that idea years ago because it adds to the load of guilt he feels. Just imagine, he's 10 years old, and he and Ariana go outside to play, but Albus gets distracted with other neighborhood kids and loses sight of her for ten minutes. It's enough to have her abducted. Could you really blame a 10-year-old? No, he was just a kid. But would Albus blame himself for the rest of his life? You bet. So that's what I did to him. I'm so mean._

_**Brigid** \- Thanks and bless you too! The only fanfic updated - oh I know the feeling. Isn't it so frustrating when someone writes a fanfic you like but they never finish it? It drives me nuts! _

_**8-Wolke-8** \- Yes, Dumbledore is definitely one of the most scarred HP characters! And thank you so much for your kind words. It honestly makes me nervous tying World War II into the Wizarding world. I won't give away more about Albus facing the Holocaust because that's next chapter, but I'll just say it's going to get worse for him. Like JK Rowling said, terrible thing to be Dumbledore, really. I feel so bad for him. Self-blame, self-hatred. _

_**Red Furry Demon** \- The 1941 part actually came from an idea I saw on tumblr. There was a post that read, "Imagine a middle-aged Dumbledore crying in his office because he knows he has to stop Grindelwald when he partially blames himself for his rise to power" or something like that. I liked that idea!_

* * *

**"'The name Grindelwald is justly famous: In a list of Most Dangerous Dark Wizards of All Time, he would miss out on the top spot only because You-Know-Who arrived, a generation later, to steal his crown.'" **

**\- Rita Skeeter, _Deathly Hallows_, chapter 18**

* * *

**1945**

Gellert Grindelwald was sitting at a large table that morning with the usual insane amount of newspapers in various languages spread out before him - both Magic and Muggle ones. He was perfectly fluent in each one, but like usual, he was disappointed in the fact that most of the newspapers were completely identical in their headlines. World War II dominated everything, and seeing as Gellert had more of an insight into World War II than anyone, it was all either old news or incorrect news.

"Wann ist das Treffen?" asked a man in passing with a yawn.

"Eine Stunde vor Mittag," replied Gellert in a bored voice as he flipped through the pages. In truth, he really did not like dealing with the Nazis. Muggles were all complete fools. He felt like he was the only adult in a room full of children. The vast majority of them were idiots... but they would do. For now, he could tolerate them. Only a very, _very_ select few knew that Gellert was capable of doing magic. Hitler knew, and, for the most part, that was enough. Gellert liked to amuse himself during the meetings because he knew the majority of the Nazis had no idea why Gellert was even around. He was a joke to many of them, a black sheep who seemingly was completely deranged and unqualified to even breathe the same air as them. Hitler stood up for Gellert though. He called Gellert one of his "best men." The thought of him being one of Hitler's best men made Gellert want to laugh. The Muggles were really fucking _clueless_.

Then something caught Gellert's eye. He was looking at an English Wizarding newspaper. A familiar name had flashed before his eyes. It was a rather small article on page four. The title read: "_Dumbledore Abandons Post at Hogwarts School_." He read the rest of the article carefully. Apparently, Albus Dumbledore had left Hogwarts three days ago with no explanation at all, and no one knew where he was... The headmaster, Armando Dippet (who was surely incompetent with a name like that) had declined comment. Well, it was about time Albus had seen the light and left that ridiculous school. Albus had always been a very promising individual, and in Gellert's opinion, he completely wasted all of his potential teaching brainless twelve-year-olds how to transfigure a rat into a teacup. Gellert remembered the first time Albus had told him he had always wanted to be a teacher. It had made Gellert laugh. Albus had become a real let-down - a complete waste of talent. Perhaps Albus now agreed or maybe he was having a mental breakdown. Either way, leaving Hogwarts had to be an improvement from where he was.

Then Gellert folded up his newspapers and set about his daily business, listening to the Nazi meetings, corresponding with the generals, and wishing he had an equal. Hitler was no equal. At first practical opportunity, as far as Gellert was concerned, he was going to throw Hitler in one of his own crematoriums one day.

* * *

As he walked past the long line of inferior Muggle life forms, he ignored them. Gellert had, at one time, paid a good deal of attention to them when the line of Muggles walking to their deaths was new to him. Now, it was the same thing, day in, day out. He was tired of their pleas for help.

"The war is not exactly going in Hitler's favor," Gellert said in German to the high-ranking Nazi officer walking beside him.

"He has been experiencing some setbacks," the faithful Nazi replied in alarm. "We may have lost some recent battles, but that does not mean we have lost the war! The Führer has said to me many times that he is confident we can be victorious."

Gellert rolled his eyes, his gaze turning onto one of the Muggles. The Nazis never said anything against their beloved _Führer_. Gellert had told Hitler that using his reserves against the British and Americans was a mistake, but he had not listened. He had clearly underestimated the British and Americans. It was clear to Gellert that the end of the Muggle war was near, but the Wizarding war was just beginning.

A Muggle in the line - a woman - saw him and clung to the fence. Gellert met her gaze and stopped walking. The Nazi stopped too and looked upon the woman with a look of disgust on his face.

"Please," the woman cried to Gellert, her face pale and scratched and wet from tears. "Please, have mercy, I'm pregnant, I'm pregnant!"

"You are pregnant?" exclaimed Gellert as the woman continued to sob. "Well, I thank you for telling me, ma'am. I do not let pregnant women go to the gas chambers." He drew his wand and slashed it in the air so fast that no one could see what it was - they only saw a black object protruding from his hand. The woman's body was slashed open, and the other Muggles in line tried to scamper away, but the guards threw them back against the fence.

"Not pregnant anymore," said Gellert plainly as the woman screamed. Irked by the sound, he raised his wand again, and a jet of green light hit her. Her body crumpled to the ground. He looked around at the pale faces of the Muggles in line. "Is anybody else in line pregnant?" he called. "No? Very well, I thought so."

The Nazi officer looked shocked. "What - ?"

"Top secret new weapon," Gellert said as the couple continued to walk again, his wand once again out of sight. "One of our scientists developed it."

* * *

Gellert was surprised to find an owl delivering a letter to him four days later. He had so little contact with wizards anymore that it was almost a surprise to come into contact with anything magical. _You're turning into a Muggle_, he thought disgustedly to himself as he unrolled the parchment.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked the gray owl in German, which was looking up at him benignly. "I would think -" he began to say, but he stopped suddenly. He recognized this handwriting, though he could not place it at first. He glanced at the signature and saw the name Albus Dumbledore. Had Gellert not recognized the handwriting, he would have easily dismissed it as a prank. It was definitely Albus' handwriting. Gellert had spent countless numbers of hours reading this handwriting over that summer nearly forty-six years ago. Albus had even made the 'A' at the beginning of his name look like the sign of the Deathly Hallows just as he always had done back then. Nobody else could have pulled that off even with magical means, as nobody else knew that Albus used to do that.

Gellert glanced around the empty room as if he was expecting someone to be spying on him. Then he read the letter. He had to stop and reread it several times because he could not believe what he was reading. When he finally read the letter in its entirety, he stared at the bottom of the page for a moment before breaking out into laughter. Then he read it again at a normal pace.

_Gellert,_

_I have followed you and your speeches closely throughout the years, along with the rest of the war. I know that you, in turn, have followed my life in the newspapers because I know you sit down each morning and read them all. It has taken me all this time to come to terms with Ariana's death. I have been damaged on the inside for a very long time, and I think you have always understood this about me. Ariana's death is something that has haunted me every night for the past forty-six years. For most of those years, I have blamed you for her death. I have hated you. I have cursed your name. I have wished for your death often every time I see the name 'Grindelwald' in the headlines. My hatred for you has nearly eclipsed my hatred for myself._

_However, something has changed in me. I have read over the interviews you give for the press multiple times, and Gellert, I did not want to admit it at first, but what you say makes a great deal of sense. You were always a great speaker - a great debater. And I have come to gradually see that it is not your fault Ariana died - it was Aberforth's. It is not your fault many oppose you and demonize you. You a force of change, and therefore, you are hated a great deal. Yet this is true for all revolutionaries. All those who bring about profound change are hated. Sometimes the ends do justify the means. I fully appreciate that you are trying to make the world a better place for all people. Unfortunately, this means that some will have to die for the betterment of us all. The bleeding hearts out there would try to convince me otherwise, but I think you and I both know the truth. Accepting all Muggles, taking care of all Muggles, sounds nice, but it is unrealistic in practice. The Muggles are getting more and more difficult to control. So much of the Muggle population is diseased. It needs to be chopped off in order for the rest of humanity to thrive. That is reality. Reality is not always pleasant._

_But I am rambling now. The point, my friend, is that I understand what you are trying to say... and you are right. You are completely correct. There was a time not too long ago that I adamantly would have denied you were right, but you are._

_Furthermore, to be frank, Gellert, I am tired of my life. I was not meant to be a teacher. I was meant to change the world. I was meant to go out onto the world's stage and be a revolutionary. That is why I am so powerful. I was meant to be a force of change, just as you are swiftly becoming. Are the Muggles you collaborate with intelligent? The others I am surrounded by are not. At all. The children are convincing me, more and more, that the generations of the future will be even less intelligent than their parents and grandparents. Even the Wizarding world is in decline as a population, so I cannot bear to imagine the Muggle gene pool. I have reached a point in my life where I am not content with mediocrity. I am not content at fixing spelling errors as I grade homework every night. This was not meant to be my life. I have wasted so many years._

_Yet this is not the worst truth I have come to realize. Gellert, I can just imagine you rolling your eyes at me as you read this, but I am quite isolated. I am quite alone. I have no equal here. You were - and always will be - my equal. And, quite simply, I miss you. It is difficult for me to accept that I have wasted all these years hating you when I should have been loving you._

_I know what you're thinking. You are not someone to be fooled. I know you are thinking I am planning on stopping you. I know you are wondering if I know you have the Elder Wand. I do know you have the Elder Wand, Gellert, because like you, I read the newspaper every day. I received your message loud and clear. I am quite shocked that you actually found - and won it - somehow, but I know you possess it. I know I have no chance in winning a duel with you. You have the unbeatable wand. I know this. But I also know that you are correct about everything - or, at least, nearly everything. I know that I still love you. I know that the worlds of Wizarding and Muggle are broken. I have tried to not love you. I have tried to convince myself that I truly hate you and that you are wrong about everything. I have failed on both accounts at last. I think of you every day. You are my greatest weakness, and I know I have wasted away four decades worth of my life hating you when I should have been by your side. _

_I do not expect you to believe what I am saying. I understand if you can never trust me again. Yet I am asking you... do you want my help? I will help you. You are in control. You have the Elder Wand, and I know I will never win it from you, just as I believe you know this too. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for all the years we lost if you allow me. I want to join you and finally live out my life's purpose. _

_I am always yours, _

_Albus Dumbledore_

Gellert broke out laughing again. This was all so over-the-top. He sat there carefully considering how to reply. He knew that Albus had spent hours working on writing this letter - even days - and he wondered how many drafts he had written before sending this one. Gellert knew he should be just as cautious in his reply. He understood that he should think about how to reply and all the ramifications that could come from his possible responses. He was, however, too eager to reply right away, so he summoned a blank piece of parchment and a pen (the Muggles had invented a worthy tool), and he quickly wrote his response.

* * *

Albus received Gellert's reply faster than he thought he would. His heart hammering, he picked up the letter and read it with trembling fingers.

_Albus, _

_Either I was a complete idiot when I was seventeen or you've forgotten who I am. Do you honestly think I believe anything that you've written? I hope not. Either way, you are correct. I do have the Elder Wand. You led me right to it. It was with Gregorovitch after all. So, thank you, but no thank you. I'm doing fine without you, though I do miss your companionship a little, I'll admit. I do not know why you are trying to get word of my location if you know I have the Elder Wand. You cannot beat me. Do you think if you tip off your Auror Department of where I am, they will be able to stop me? They will not be able to either, so you really do not need to bother with this pathetic endeavor. _

_Gellert_

Albus smiled slightly. He had expected such a reply, but he still felt a bit stung. He pushed this aside. His personal feelings did not matter right now. He already had his reply written in wait. He read it briefly to make sure everything fit together and there were no inconsistencies before sending it out the window with the gray owl.

* * *

Gellert was surprised when the gray owl came back to him so quickly. That owl did have to fly quite a long distance afterall, so to have him return so quickly was startling. He had expected Albus to carefully consider his reply and take a couple days in order to plan what to say next. This apparently was not the case. Albus must have read his letter and written his own reply straightaway. Seriously curious now, Gellert snatched the letter and read it.

_I'm sorry. I love you. I will not bother you again. You can come to England. I will not stop you. _

_Albus_

Gellert blinked. This was not the reply he had been expecting at all. He had expected Albus to take several days to write a pathetic sappy letter of how in love he was and how he would do anything to earn his trust again. Gellert rested his head against his hand as he sat at the table thinking and staring at the letter. Maybe if he ignored it, Albus would write him again. Maybe the reply Gellert had expected was already being written. _He can't have given up that easily_, thought Gellert. If Albus really wanted to stop him, he would eventually write again. He was quite sure he knew exactly what Albus was doing, but it was Gellert who was the master manipulator, not Albus. _  
_

His brain was tired. He wasn't going to be able to figure out Albus Dumbledore tonight. He could think some more tomorrow. Perhaps he would be woken by another owl waiting for him with a new letter. Gellert stood up and took both of Albus' letters with him before retiring for the night.

But Albus did not send him another letter the next day. Or the next. Or the next.

* * *

It was raining. Albus was lying on his bed, staring up at the white blank ceiling, completely depressed. An entire week had passed by since he had last written to Gellert. He had not replied.

Albus had planned so carefully what he would do when he found Gellert. He had planned so carefully how he would get the Elder Wand from Gellert that he had forgotten the beginning. He had to first arrive to wherever Gellert was, and he had no idea where that might be, just like everyone else in the world. Albus knew that if he wrote to him again, it would seem like he was obsessed with getting to him, and Albus knew Gellert would never fall for it. He had to appear like he was wanting to be his partner in crime - nothing desperate. It was increasingly looking like Albus' plan had been foiled before it even began. He also knew he could not return to Hogwarts inexplicably with no explanation for abandoning his post. Doing so would also reveal his true intentions.

Albus stood and tried to think of something to do, but there was nothing. He was trapped inside his own skull. It was hell. He went and sat down at the kitchen table as he read Gellert's final letter from forty-six years ago for the millionth time.

_Should you ever want to join me in search of the Deathly Hallows, you are welcome to contact me. ... This offer stands no matter how many years pass by, Albus_... That is what Gellert had said. Perhaps too many years had indeed passed. Perhaps Gellert had decided Albus was not really worth as much trouble as he originally thought he was. Albus was caught upriver without a paddle. He had been so sure that he would be able to convince Gellert to meet with him again.

Some 1,360 kilometers away, Gellert was writing a letter.

Albus had not taken good care of himself over the past several days in his despair. He was ragged, hungry, dirty, and tired. He had not had the motivation or energy to do much of anything. This changed when an owl Albus did not recognize flew to the kitchen window and tapped at the door. He jumped to his feet, wrenched at the window handle, and opened it. He was gentler with the owl than the window by managing to not grab the letter from its beak. Without bothering to sit, he read the writing on the paper. It was short, and it was in Gellert's handwriting.

_Why did you write to me?_

Albus balked a bit. It was such a simple question that had complicated answers.

Not quite knowing exactly how to respond, Albus paced for a minute. Gellert had always had a way of surprising him all those years ago, and now he was taken aback by him again. The real answer was, of course, so Albus could stop him. However, the fact that Gellert was asking him this was telling him that Gellert was having doubts about turning him down. Gellert had been correct - of course Albus was out to stop him. Yet now, it seemed Gellert was having reservations about his hasty yet accurate conclusion.

After hesitating for a moment, Albus grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote the most honest answer he could give.

* * *

_Gellert,_

_You wrote in your last letter to me after Ariana's death to contact you if I ever changed my mind about joining you in search of the Deathly Hallows. Don't you remember? I still have it... You said I am always welcome to contact you, no matter how many years pass. I understand it was nearly forty-six years ago, but I thought you would remember. I was angry when I received it. I wanted to rip it into pieces. I kept it instead. I surmise you have moved on with your life far better than I have, then._

_Albus_

Gellert stared at these words, his brain working furiously. Had he said that? He certainly did remember writing a final letter to Albus after Ariana was killed. Why had he written that letter? To see if Albus was still willing to join him... He thought he could vaguely remember writing that. Everything that day had happened so fast - Gellert had truly feared Albus when he realized Ariana was dead, so he ran, but he had considered this as not a good move later on - he was not sure if Albus would blame him or not, so he had written the letter to see... and he had received no response... until now.

Albus was right about one thing. Gellert did have the Elder Wand. It was known as the _unbeatable_ wand. No one in history had ever won it in an honorable way. If Albus was going to try to duel him, Gellert would surely win. The two of them were equals when it came to magical power, but since Gellert had the Elder Wand, there was no way Albus could win. Sure, if Gellert were an average wizard, Albus might win, but they were equals, and Gellert had the unbeatable wand... If Albus was planning on winning the wand by stealth, by taking it when Gellert had his back turned, he would be in for a rotten surprise. Gellert was never going to let his guard down. He protected the Elder Wand with his life.

Gellert too remembered how powerful Albus was. In all his years, Gellert had not come across another like Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

_A/N: Ohshit, I can't believe I'm having to split this up into 3 (4?) parts. WTF. At the end of this arc, there's going to be one last Harry-Dumbledore thing._


	13. Stopping Grindelwald Part 3

_A/N: Yesterday, collegehumor posted an article called "JK Rowling's Twitter Is Out of Control." I would recommend you read it. Um. The 4th one got me for a second. *clears throat* Just go read it. Let's pretend all of them are real.  
_

_I don't know if you guys know a lot about the Holocaust, but I have immersed myself in it while writing this arc. I have watched World War II stuff every day since I started writing this arc three chapters ago. The history I weaved in here is accurate (unfortunately), except I have not the faintest idea where Hitler visited in his final couple months alive (and I'm not sure if we even know for sure). I've heard he never visited a concentration camp, but... I chose Dachau because it was the only concentration camp that stood for the entirety of the Third Reich. It was not liberated until April 1945. It was more horrible than I can put in words.  
_

_This contains the duel. I think. IDK, I'm still writing it. This is already twice as long as I thought it would be. If it's not this one, it's the next one. I feel like you guys would rather read about Dumbledore and Harry v. Dumbledore and Grindelwald. I may, may, may be doing a Harry and Dumbledore fic after this that breaks off of canon. Don't know. In this story, nothing contradicts canon at all - a lot of it may seem very unlikely to lots of you, but JK Rowling has never said it didn't happen this way. The new fic would be different._

_Are you guys bored with Albus/Gellert? I feel like I didn't get as many reviews this time around...  
_

_You probably won't have seen this coming._

_**mangoarcher1802** \- Ah, I thought you gave up on this fic a long time ago! Sorry it's taken me so long to update this one. It's been very difficult to write. _

_**Muggzy** \- Thank you! My interpretation is about to go off the deep end here, but JK Rowling never said it _didn't_ happen this way... *mad cackling* _

_**Red Furry Demon** \- Oh, it took Albus days to write that letter. He went through many drafts. I'm glad you like my characterization of Gellert because I think my interpretation of Gellert is the most deranged character I've ever written. He is funny yet so evil. And no, it's not bad you found that bit funny... it's not real, so it's cool. :P There's probably stuff in this chapter you might find funny too... at least Gellert thinks he's hilarious here._

_**BrigidSparks** \- Let me tell you, I've never understood why the Wizarding world still uses quills... To me, it just kind of shows that they are so unbelievably prejudiced that they won't admit to or use better Muggle inventions. I think Gellert's different than that. He still thinks they're inferior, but when they do produce something good, I think he would say so._

* * *

**"Blessed be God's name? Why, but why would I bless Him? Every fiber in me rebelled. Because He caused thousands of children to burn in His mass graves? Because He kept six crematoria working day and night, including Sabbath and the Holy Days? Because in His great might, He had created Auschwitz, Birkenau, Buna, and so many other factories of death? ... I was the accuser, God the accused."**

**\- _Night_, Elie Wiesel  
**

**"Some people believe that the reports of what happened there have been exaggerated. No words could exaggerate what we saw and what we know. The reality was indescribably worse than these pictures. You cannot photograph suffering, only its results. In pictures, you have no smell of disease and death. There are eighteen of these German concentration camps. Dead and the living dead. I saw scores of these living skeletons. Let no one say these things were never real."**

**\- Mavis Tate, Member of Parliament  
**

* * *

**1945**

Albus had never felt so nervous in his entire life. Actually, 'nervous' was not the right word; he was nothing short of terrified. He was not terrified so much for himself personally as he was for the rest of the world. He knew fully that if he did not pull this off, it was unlikely anyone else would be able to stop Gellert Grindelwald.

It had been nearly forty-six years since he last saw him. They had been just teenagers. Albus still did not know which of them had cast the curse that killed Ariana, and he did not even want to find out, if Gellert knew himself.

_You have to stop thinking of him as Gellert,_ he told himself mentally for the thousandth time. _He's Grindelwald, and he's partially (at best) responsible for the deaths of thousands - millions. Grindelwald. You aren't adolescent boys anymore._

Albus hadn't really thought about God much in all his years. He was middle-aged as far as the Wizarding world goes, but not once since Ariana's death had he really stopped and thought about God and the afterlife and such. It wasn't that he did not believe; it was just that he did not know. Quite honestly, he did not even like to question it. It made him uncomfortable. If there was a God, he was quite certain God was nothing short of a monster. Life was too unjust for there to be a benevolent God. Yet now, as he faced what might be the end of his life, he could not resist the urge to think about what it would be like to have a discussion with God. What should I do? How will this end? Am I going to heaven or hell? Where have you been? Where _were_ you? Why won't you _speak_?

He couldn't think about it too much. Gell- _Grindelwald_ \- was in Germany. Upper Bavaria. Albus knew this much. _Ever heard of Dachau?_ Grindelwald had written. Albus admitted he hadn't. He then told Albus that it was a concentration camp. Of course, Albus knew about the concentration camps from the newspapers, but many dismissed what was said happened there as exaggerations - or even outright lies altogether. No one knew for sure except for the Nazis what was going on in these concentration camps. Some even said there was no proof of any Holocaust whatsoever.

_It is actually a very fine camp - compared to others. __Come and see it, _Grindelwald wrote. _Not today. Tomorrow morning. Seven in the morning, my time. Then you can decide whether or not you want to join me. If you so much as try anything, or even make any sudden movements that I find threatening, I will not hesitate to kill you. _

So, trembling with fear, Albus vowed to Apparate to Dachau, Bavaria, Germany at seven o'clock in the morning. He could not sleep that night because he could not get Gellert Grindelwald out of his head. He dozed at best, not truly asleep, his thoughts racing in a twilight state.

* * *

The first thing Albus noticed was the scent. It was unlike anything he had ever smelled before. It smelled like something was burning, but it was not wood. There were white buildings with brown tiles around him. What appeared to be the entrance was a white building with red tiles. At the center of the entrance, framed within the cement, was a metal gate. Some words in German were framed on the metal gate, but he did not look closely enough to make them out. There were small trees planted in rows. All around him was electric wiring and strange tall buildings with triangles at the top. Whatever this place was, it was massive. He was so busy trying to explain this strange scent that he did not immediately notice the medium-blue eyes that were surveying him closely along the left of the building.

Subconsciously, he looked behind him at the triangular buildings, which happened to be the watchtowers, though he did not yet know that. His grip tightened around his wand, his palms sweaty. He knew he looked extraordinarily out of place but still, no one seemed to care. When no one made any move to stop him, he proceeded toward the metal gate.

_Arbeit Macht Frei_, were the words on the metal door. _Work Brings Freedom_ was the translation. But just as Albus got closer to it, the metal frame changed. Transfixed, he watched as the metal rearranged itself into _für das größere Wohl_. _For the Greater Good_. Then the metal gate sprang open so fast for him that it made him jump.

"It's impressive, isn't it?" said a voice he recognized to his left.

Albus snapped his neck in direction of the voice. Gellert Grindelwald was looking right at him from ten feet away, his expression passive. Two other men stood by his side. Time had done nothing but good for Gellert. He was undoubtedly older than the last time Albus had seen him, but he still had the same handsome face and cool demeanor. Some men aged in an attractive way, and he was definitely one of them, and Albus hated him for it. He still talked to Albus in that same flawless British accent that was not truly his. He looked more mature, maybe a little tired. He was also smoking a cigarette, something that looked completely odd, as only Muggles smoked. He was also, just as bizarrely, wearing not a swastika around his arm, but the sign of the Deathly Hallows. He looked absolutely ridiculous, yet still attractive.

"You're the only other person in the world who knows it does that," Gellert continued. "You're the only other wizard ever to see it, that I know of, anyway, just as you are the only one who sees the Deathly Hallows and not a swastika. As if I'm going to wear the sign of another man's campaign on me. Don't worry, the men standing beside me are idiots who only speak one language: their native tongue. They have no idea what I'm saying. Yet even if they did, it wouldn't matter. They're going to know about the Wizarding world eventually anyway. Maybe six months. Maybe a year."

Albus continued to stare at him, feeling lightheaded. He resisted the urge to raise his wand and try to take Gellert's straightaway. Gellert's posture was casual, but Albus knew he would be able to draw his Elder Wand in an instant. What was the Muggle expression? _Don't bring a knife to a gun fight_ or something? Well, all Albus had was a knife, and if Gellert really had the Elder Wand, he was the only one with a gun here.

"I kept up on your speeches throughout the years," Gellert said with a scowl. "I am not impressed. You were always a bleeding heart for the damn Muggles. Do you want to try to kill me? I'll let you try now, if you want."

"I don't want to kill you," said Albus thickly.

"We'll see. Anyway, if you want to join me -"

"I do," said Albus immediately.

"Save your verdict for now," said Gellert smoothly. "You haven't been inside yet. I'll give you a bit of a tour, shall I? Tell you all about Hitler and the Holocaust and what truly happens in Nazi Germany." He dropped the cigarette and stamped on it before turning to the gate.

"Die Züge werden bald hier sein," said one of the other men suddenly.

Gellert looked at him in disdain. "Well, go then," he said in German. "You know what to do. Go get ready for the train, then. You do not need me holding your hand, do you?"

The two other men exchanged a glance before walking through the gate and setting off to the left.

"Why were you smoking a cigarette like a Muggle?" asked Albus.

"Because it makes me look good, of course," Gellert replied in that same cool tone. Albus knew him well enough to pick up on the slight humor in his voice. "Now, come on. This is your official tour."

Albus would have thought it would have been awkward to set off on foot with Gellert Grindelwald around a concentration camp, but in reality, it was not, for Gellert, ever the extrovert, talked the entire time as if there was not forty-six years of silence separating them. Awkward was not at all the right word to describe it. That would would have to be _horrifying_.

"So this is Dachau. It's the oldest concentration camp. All other of our concentration camps have been recreated under this one's model. Over sixty-five thousand are currently here. What do you think happens in concentration camps, anyway?"

"Manual labor."

"Correct," said Gellert. "Labor. Hard labor, but don't feel bad for them. Dachau served as a model for all the other concentration camps. There's more than just labor happening here though. Hitler uses them to kill off the Muggles he wants dead. According to the Nazis though, it's only purpose is to weed out the weak and use the strong for work. That is complete nonsense though. It's to kill them off. The lucky ones are killed right away. Those that can be used for work are, in short, worked to death. Make no mistake, the Nazis are a bunch of sadistic bastards. I think they like seeing them in pain, but they will swear up and down these concentration camps are for work, not death. They also don't ever take personal responsibility for what goes on here. It's all about taking orders to them. They'll tell you they're just following orders. They would all jump off a cliff in a moment if Hitler tells them to. I think it is honestly because they are not intellectually capable of doing otherwise."

He was trying to both hear Gellert and take in his surroundings, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He saw barracks ahead - many, many buildings, and he could see people milling around, but these people did not look like ordinary people.

"Don't mind the Muggles," continued Gellert. "They'll stay far away from us. They're afraid of me. You're in luck though - there's going to be a train coming in in forty minutes, like you heard. It brings fresh blood in here. There's always some dead in the train cars, but most of them will be alive, usually. We'll sort them out and divide them into their proper categories. There might be some executions. I don't really know. This place is run by the Nazis. I'm just here for the show. Hitler is effective at lightening the Muggle load."

They were getting closer. Albus felt the blood drain from his face. His feet were marching on numbly, and he was aware that Gellert was still talking, but he did not know what was being said anymore.

The people were walking skeletons - all skin and bone. They skirted away from Gellert when they saw him. Some of them were lying motionless on the ground. It was unclear which were dead and which were still alive.

"They work hard at first," Gellert was saying. "Maybe they believe the words on the gate. They learn pretty quickly though. Hard work brings you nothing but a faster death here. They aren't fed nearly enough to keep up the energy needed to work."

Albus found himself actually shaking after one woman - he thought it was a woman - made eye contact with him before scuttling away.

Nothing could have prepared him for _this_. He had to pretend...

"Do you -" said Albus as calmly as he could (he had to stay calm), "do you have those - those crematoria here?"

"We do," replied Gellert. "We don't put them in there alive though here or anything, only dead. Or, at least, the last time I checked. Ashes take up a lot less space than bodies." He jerked his thumb to the right, and Albus saw a column of black smoke. "Didn't you notice the strange burning smell? You get used to it quickly, but it is a peculiar scent at first."

"I - I did... but you said in the interviews that you didn't have a single crematorium."

Gellert shrugged. "Hitler wants it hushed. The whole world probably knows now though. Auschwitz was liberated a little over a month ago, as you have probably heard."

Albus tried to remember everything else he had heard about concentration camps. "And do you have the gas chambers?"

"Oh, certainly," said Gellert. "The vast majority of the time, the new arrivals don't know about the gas chambers though. They think they are going in to take a shower. Clean them up to minimize disease, you can imagine the ruse. We even have fake shower heads to throw them off. Hitler uses something called hydrogen cyanide or prussic acid that they use to kill them. It isn't pretty, but I'm sure you can imagine why we kill them that way."

Albus thought of the most horrible response he could think of. "Because they aren't worth the bullets to kill them."

"Oh, that's a very good answer," said Gellert, nodding. "I asked Hitler once, but I like your answer better than his. He said that the men killing people by using guns were complaining about mental stress. No one wants to have to shoot people all day long, I guess; it's very wearing. Better to just throw them in a room, gas them, and wait. Then send in the next batch. We do shoot some at times though. They like the gas chambers however- they call it euthanasia. As many as six thousand were gassed every day in Auschwitz. But like I said, the lucky ones go to the gas chambers. It is quite barbaric though."

"Are there... those gas chambers here?"

"Oh, they're here," said Gellert. "We don't use them often though, only very sparingly. Like I said, this is a fine camp."

A little sound escaped Albus' throat. Gellert looked sideways at him.

"You don't feel bad for them, do you?" asked Gellert. "I mean, you _are_ someone who six months ago was fighting for equal rights for Muggles."

"I thought that by treating them as equals, they would rise to the occasion," he replied in a small voice.

"Not possible," said Gellert brusquely. "You can try to teach a dog manners, but he'll never learn. Not intellectually capable. All they think about is themselves."

"I know you're right. I just wish you weren't."

"This is about final solutions," continued Gellert. "Hitler wants the inferior Muggles gone so he won't have to deal with them anymore - not now, not ever. I know it doesn't look pretty, but it really will be the best thing in the end. Believe me, I am not supportive of everything Hitler and the Nazis do, but it is all about the greater good, in the end. The world will be a better place when all is said and done. But trust me, the end of the Muggle war is near. I don't think it will be long before Hitler realizes it's all over. As for me - maybe us - we have Nurmengard."

Albus didn't dare ask what Nurmengard was. He didn't think he wanted to know.

"Unfortunately, Hitler isn't having disabled people killed as much as he did at the start of the war," continued Gellert. "The disabled are worthless to the rest of humanity. That's why I originally wanted to join him in the first place. I mean really, what am I going to do with thousands or millions of disabled people? How am I going to fit them into a functional society? They are an expense. Hitler authorized the euthanasia in 1939, but people protested. The Nazi party received a lot of criticism for it. In the summer of 1941, Hitler called for the official end of the program, but they still kill disabled people today, merely not as many. I want to restart the program eventually, once Hitler is no longer useful. Do you know how many disabled people we've killed so far?"

"No," replied Albus, his jaw tense with anger.

"Around 200,000," said Gellert. "Impressive number, but not nearly enough."

"Ariana was disabled." He had said it without meaning to. He couldn't keep it in.

Gellert glanced at him very seriously.

"Albus, Ariana was not disabled through birth," he explained calmly. "She was disabled because of what those Muggles did to her. It's different. She was not born inferior - she was made inferior by a imperfect social system. If I was in charge, there would have been no Muggles attacking a Witch or Wizard - ever. It would not have happened..."

He heard a train's whistle in the background. Gellert lifted his head.

"Sounds like the new arrivals are here," said Gellert. "All filthy Muggles that haven't eaten in days. Let's go see them, shall we?"

But he did not want to go see them. He did not want to see their eyes looking into his, pleading with him silently.

* * *

Three hours later, he found himself shaking and crying in a Nazi restroom that was (bizarrely) clean and cheery for the location. There was even a painting of the ocean hanging on the wall. An ocean painting in the middle of a concentration camp. It seemed so ironic that people were dying in starvation on the ground just outside - one would never believe how barbaric this place was.

Albus knew he had to be quick. He knew the longer he took to pull himself together, the more Gellert would suspect he had broken down and was crying which, of course, was true.

_I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this._

He had to do it. Gell- _Grindelwald_ \- had the Elder Wand. Hitler's war may or may not be coming to an end, but Grindelwald's would never be stopped until that wand was taken away from him. The only person in the world who could ever take it from him was Albus. He just had to do it _correctly_, and crying and shaking in front of a mirror was not the correct way to do it.

He fully understood what doing it correctly entailed.

After taking several deep breaths and checking to make sure his eyes were not too red, he ejected himself from the restroom and back into hell.

The Nazis did not look at him with curiosity anymore. They had all seen him with Grindelwald. He was one of them now. He sped down the hallways, got lost once, but eventually found his way back to Grindelwald.

"What did you do, get lost?" Gellert asked him. (Albus completely forgot he was supposed to be _Grindelwald_ as soon as their eyes met.)

"Once," Albus said in irritation, thankful his response was completely truthful. "Gellert, I need to talk to you."

"Can it wait?" asked Gellert, looking faintly amused. "You probably didn't notice, but I'm already speaking with other people."

Albus noticed three other men watching the exchange. Apparently he had interrupted them.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Fine," Albus muttered, looking embarrassed. He took a few steps back and leaned against the wall, waiting.

"What the hell is wrong with your friend?" said one of the Nazis in German. Apparently, he did not know Albus knew what he was saying.

"Please do not mind him," replied Gellert blandly in German. "He just gets jealous when he sees me talking to other men, that's all."

There was a long pause after this in which Albus turned red, but he did not want to let on that he understood German, so he did not so much as twitch.

"You might want to keep something like that quiet if you want him to live," said one Nazi with dark hair and hazel eyes. Even though this was said in a language other than his own, Albus could decipher his tone was deadly serious. "You do know the Führer is due to stop by this afternoon, correct?"

"Worry about yourself, Fabian," snapped Gellert. "You never know what kind of information others might be digging up about _you_."

The dark-haired man looked angry, but he did not retort. The subject was dropped.

Some ten minutes later, the Nazis walked away, leaving Albus and Gellert by themselves. Gellert looked over at him inquisitively, and Albus became uncomfortably aware that this was the first time he was alone with Gellert in a tiny room since he was eighteen.

"Looks like someone let slip that you're a fucking queer," said Gellert in English once again. "I'm betting it was Aberforth though."

Albus' mouth twitched into a genuine smile before he remembered where what was going on around him. He hated himself for feeling any shred of happiness or amusement when there were people starving to death all around him.

"So what are you needing to talk to me about?" said Gellert finally.

"Hitler," said Albus simply, acting as if his temper was short.

"That idiot. What about him?"

"The headline article was 'Grindelwald Joins Hitler,'" said Albus firmly. "Please tell me you're not actually considering him to be an equal to us, are you?"

"Hitler? An equal?" echoed Gellert as he looked completely dumbfounded. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course not. He's a Muggle."

"Then you're not thinking of actually letting him rule with us, are you?"

Gellert laughed. He shook his head, his blond hair falling in front of his eyes. "You honestly thought I was going to let Hitler rule over the Muggles? Of course I won't do that. He is useful for now, that's all. I plan to kill him off as soon as the time is right, which is actually fast approaching, truly. No, and besides, Hitler is probably thinking the same thing about me. I tell him I'll let him rule over the Muggles. He tells me he'll let me - _let me_ \- rule over the Wizarding world. But both of us are lying to the other. He has no plans to let me rule wizards. None at all. Hitler likes to operate alone. He would not be satisfied with anyone having any real power other than him. He would never settle for a partner." Gellert smiled crookedly. "Of course, it is hilarious that he thinks he can even have me killed off, but no matter. He will die when the time is right. He is no match for you and me. Until then, it appears you'll get to meet him this afternoon."

"Do you think he suspects you are planning to kill him?" asked Albus, not really caring what the answer was.

"Most likely. Yes, he probably does. Both lying to each other, knowing we are lying, and knowing that we are planning to kill each other in the near future. Yes, I think that sums up my relationship with Adolf Hitler. Yet we respect each other so much, Albus, for right now, we both benefit the other. Hitler loves me to death, and I love him, it's just a shame we are both plotting each others' deaths, and we both know it. Unfortunately for him, he has no idea just how powerful magic is. He really doesn't stand a chance against me when the right time comes."

Albus nodded and closed his eyes, pretending to be lost in thought. Then he realized it was probably not a good idea to be standing in a tiny room with his enemy with his eyes closed, he reopened his eyes to see Gellert contemplating him in silence.

"What?" asked Albus softly, feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing," replied Gellert. "Come walk around with me. I'll tell you all about Hitler."

_No_. Albus did not want to go out there. He did not want to walk among the prisoners again - the dead and the living dead.

Gellert flashed a smile. "You feel bad for the Muggles, don't you?"

The lie died on his lips. He simply closed his eyes again.

Gellert clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, "You'll get used to it. It's all for the better - when it's over. Let's walk."

"Wait," Albus said suddenly.

Gellert looked at him curiously. "What is it?"

He held his gaze for a moment before saying, "How do you know that you have the Elder Wand? The _real_ Elder Wand?" His heart was hammering so hard that he felt it was almost audible.

Gellert smiled a mischievous grin. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me." He drew the wand from his robes. It looked ordinary, with odd bumped ridges on it, but disappointingly normal nonetheless. His eyes met Albus' again. "Do you trust me?" he asked quietly.

The answer was most assuredly no, but Albus nodded.

"Give me your wand," Gellert commanded.

Very, _very_ reluctantly, Albus handed his own wand to Gellert. He knew he could not have talked his way out of this.

Gellert then put the Elder Wand back into his robes and produced a second wand instead, which was, Albus decided, definitely a good thing for him to know that Gellert kept a spare wand on his person. Albus' curiosity soon turned to horror when Gellert snapped Albus' own wand in two.

A little gasp escaped him. He couldn't help it.

"Keep calm," said Gellert with a smile. Then he held Albus' broken wand under the palm of his hand. Using his ordinary spare wand, Gellert pointed it at Albus' broken one and said, "_Reparo_!"

Predictably, nothing happened. Albus' wand remained in two.

Then Gellert placed his spare wand back into his cloak and took the Elder Wand back out again. He pointed the Elder Wand and said, "_Reparo_!"

Albus' wand snapped back together. He felt his jaw slacken. No wand could mend another wand that had been snapped in two like that. A snapped wand is _always_ considered an unrepairable one. Looking delighted, Gellert handed Albus back his mended wand. A few sparks flew out of it, and Albus knew it was completely functional once again. He stared numbly at his wand in his hand before snapping out of it.

"It really is," said Albus, his eyes wide. "How - I thought - I can't believe you actually -" He fell silent, his words failing him. Finally, he said, "Can I see it?"

Gellert laughed loudly. "No, I don't think so, Albus." He shook his head in amusement before saying, "Come on, walk with me; we'll talk."

And so they did.

* * *

"Hitler's not bad, for a Muggle," said Gellert as they walked around the outskirts of the camp. It was near dusk now. The smell was as worse as ever, and Albus was fairly sure he would never be able to have the stomach to eat anything ever again. "Actually, I find similarities between myself and him. It's almost as if Hitler is my inferior Muggle self."

"How do you reach such a conclusion?"

"Well, Hitler is an idealist. Mind you, some of his ideas are completely deranged, I don't really understand the Jewish hatred fully, but he really does believe in his vision. He honestly believes he was meant to change the world. He thinks of himself as a person who was destined to rule the world - chosen. He truly does believe in what he is saying. You've never seen or heard one of his speeches, have you?"

"I've only read them."

"Well, he is a brilliant, brilliant speaker. He knows how to capture an audience, even better than me. He starts off his speeches quietly, with a deeper and calmer voice. Then as he gets more and more into it, he starts building with emotion. He's eventually shouting, his voice is higher, and it's charged with emotion. Ranting, gifted ranting. Point is, he is charismatic and passionate, an idealist... like me... He's not so good of a writer though. Have you ever read his book _Mein Kampf_? Complete rambling, no order. Yet according to the Nazis, it's the best thing ever published in the history of mankind... And did you know that he's a damn artist want-to-be? Did you notice the damn painting in the bathroom? The idiot was rejected from art school when he was eighteen or so. Hah!"

They were coming back to the main building. Albus was relieved to leave the prisoners behind. It hurt to look at them.

Unconsciously, the two men walked back to the room where they had been - where Gellert had shown him the Elder Wand. It was not until the door had shut behind them did Albus realize he had no idea why they had come back here. He was tense, but Gellert, like always, seemed completely relaxed. The blond leaned against a wall and crossed his arms in front of him as Albus tried to figure out how to hold himself in the least awkwardly way possible. He eventually decided to lean against the wall as well but did not cross his arms because that would be a direct copy, and he was sure there were social norms against that. He was trying to learn Gellert's body language - to watch for a sign of weakness he could use to steal the wand, but the wand was too well protected, and he was becoming increasingly dismayed at this...

"I've missed you, Albus," Gellert said after he blew some hair out of his eyes. "I've even missed Aberforth a little."

He didn't know how to reply.

"I mean, Aberforth was always insane, but still, he could be amusing... I'm sure he's settled down and he's making some goat very happy. Do you ever talk to him much?"

"I haven't spoken to my brother in nearly forty-six years," replied Albus, his voice distant. "He works and lives in Hogsmeade, but I don't dare go into the bar where he works."

"Hmm... Well, I'm sorry about what happened to Ariana. I can't remember if I already told you that or not."

Albus felt a lump in his throat and he wished Gellert would stop talking.

"Without a doubt," continued Gellert, "she did not deserve the hand she was dealt in life."

He was blinking back tears now. He couldn't remember why he was here with Gellert in the first place anymore. Her death had happened so long ago, so why did it still impact him so profoundly?

"Listen," Gellert said as he reached out and gripped Albus' shoulder, "it truly was not your fault. I don't know why you like to torture yourself and blame yourself so much. You always have been that way, and I suppose you always will be."

He closed his eyes and he could sense Gellert had left the wall. He felt Gellert come close to him, but he could not bear to open his eyes again out of fear of seeing a monster staring back at him. His last thought was _it's useless_ before Gellert kissed him.

He hated, hated, hated the fact he still had feelings for him. Before, he was scared that he might not be able to pull off pretending to be in love with Gellert. Now he saw that he didn't have to worry about pretending. He still did, despite everything, and this disgusted him. He completely forgot about the Elder Wand in Gellert's pocket.

Albus was not brought back to his senses until the door opened loudly. The kiss was broken and he felt Gellert look over to see who it was, but Albus himself could not bear to look.

"Sir -" the intruder began in German before stopping short.

"What the hell do you want?" Gellert snapped in German impatiently. "What?"

"The Führer has arrived," the man stuttered. The stutter made it difficult for Albus to translate, but he managed. He was finally able to glance over and saw that it was the dark-haired man from earlier - Fabian. "He is waiting for you."

"I am not going," said Gellert dismissively.

"Why?" Fabian dared to ask.

"Why?" thundered Gellert. "_Why_? Because I am busy having homosexual sex with this man, you unbelievable idiot! Go tell the Führer that!"

Fabian disappeared as quickly as he had come.

Sounding gleeful, Gellert said, "We'll wait for five minutes and then go to the meeting."

"Gellert," Albus began wearily, "why did - ?"

"That should be obvious," said Gellert. "He'll go tell Hilter that I said I'm too preoccupied and why, and then we'll both show up and I'll ask him why he didn't tell me the meeting had begun."

"Don't you think something bad might happen to him?"

"Well, certainly! He'll probably be killed. That's the whole point. I never liked the way Fabian looked at me. This is what I do; I wreck havoc on the Nazi Party."

Albus put his face in his hands. He could not handle Gellert and all his pure insanity. Maybe it would have been humorous had Albus not believed that Fabian's life was probably in danger now, and this made him feel sick for the millionth time that day.

"Now listen," Gellert was telling him excitedly, "at this meeting, don't say anything other than hello. I know you've been pretending you don't speak German, but now you'll have to reveal that you can. Hitler won't like you if you don't know German, see. He'll view you as inferior or something. I don't really give a rat's ass what Hitler's opinions are, but remember, I'm using him for now, so I'll need him to be on board with you. Otherwise though, don't speak."

"All right," Albus said tiredly. "All right. I can speak German, but I won't say much. Fine."

Five minutes later, they were walking down for the meeting, entering the large room, and Albus found himself in the same room as the Adolf Hitler. What the Muggle "Allies" would have given to be in this position...

He had a difficult time believing that this was the Hitler. He had seen him in many pictures before, but Albus had still been expecting someone more impressive-looking. Hitler appeared to be exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and Albus noted that he looked like a man defeated. He understood why Gellert had told him the Muggle war was coming to an end. It looked like even the delusional idealist agreed. However, when Hitler's eyes fell upon Gellert, his expression changed. He looked immensely relieved and glad to see him. A spark lit his eyes as if he was holding onto the very chandeliers of hope, and Gellert _was_ his hope...

"My apologies," Gellert said politely. Then he shot a confused look at Fabian and said, "Why didn't you tell us the meeting had started?"

Without waiting for an answer, Gellert sat down, and Albus sat down beside him like his shadow. Fabian looked horrified. Hitler shot Fabian a very suspicious look, and Albus fully knew that Fabian might as well begin writing his last will and testament. It was Gellert's word against Fabian's, and Gellert was clearly the winner.

For the rest of the meeting, Gellert would interject randomly and unhelpfully, and everyone in the room would look at him in disgust except for Hitler.

"Don't send the troops east," Gellert would interrupt. "I have connections... I have foreseen that sending them east would be a very bad idea. We will lose over five thousand men."

"Oh really?" snapped one of the Nazis. "You have _connections_, do you? Why don't you share them with us?"

Gellert would sigh and close his eyes before wearily saying, "You would not understand, you foolish Muggle."

Only Hitler took him seriously.

* * *

By the time the meeting was over, the sun had long since set. Hitler had clearly been a man at the end of his rope. Albus did not know much inside information about the war, but it was quite clear to him that Hitler knew he had lost it. He was obviously convinced that only magic could save him now, and Gellert and Albus happened to be able to do magic. Albus knew that Gellert would never lift a finger to help him though, and even if he wanted to, magic could not work on such a large scale as saving the losing side of a war involving millions. Hitler, ever a Muggle, did not understand this.

"That ignorant bastard," chortled Gellert as he led Albus to a part of the camp he had not yet seen. "He thinks I can say _abracadabra_ and all the Allies' soldiers will fall over dead while simultaneously killing all the Jews all over the planet. He can't even get into art school. Oh God, how glad I am you're here to laugh with me, Al."

But Albus was not laughing. He had eaten a small dinner there and now felt sick because his stomach was not empty, whereas all the prisoners' were. He wanted to throw up and never eat again. In addition, he knew his time to act would probably be tonight. He prayed he could get the Elder Wand away from Gellert as soon as possible. He couldn't bear to do this again tomorrow. If he could just get Gellert to fall asleep...

Of course, Albus was fantasizing it to happen like this: 1) They would go to wherever it was Gellert lived; 2) Gellert would immediately tell him he was going to go to sleep; 3) Gellert actually going to sleep; 4) it would be a very deep sleep at that; 5) Albus stealing the wand from his unattended robes or nightstand or wherever he kept it; 6) him waking Gellert and saying that it was all over and to come quietly; and 7) then Gellert would come quietly with no struggle. That was what Albus desperately was hoping for. Albus knew it was not actually going to happen this way, but he had no idea just how horribly things would actually turn out.

"Right here!" said Gellert gladly, stopping at a door. He opened it not with a key, but with the wand Albus so desperately wanted. It disappeared again deep into Gellert's pocket. The door opened, they stepped inside, and Albus felt like he was going to be murdered in this room when the door shut behind them.

"This is where I stay when I'm here," explained Gellert unnecessarily.

"I like the curtains," Albus said stiffly.

"Yeah," Gellert agreed. "Yeah, I bought those for a good price."

Albus knew he was making fun of him, just like he had made fun of the entire Nazi Party all night. There was an awkward pause.

"Well," said Albus, "I'm tired. I'm ready to go to bed."

"Me too," said Gellert with a mischievous grin. "Thank God, I thought you would want to talk or something."

"No, I don't mean that," said Albus tensely. When Gellert narrowed his eyes suspiciously, Albus tried to cover his tracks, "I - I mean - it's just I'm tired, I was really nervous last night about seeing you again, and I didn't get much sleep, and I want to go to sleep, that's all."

"Odd," said Gellert coolly. "I thought you were still in love with me." He tilted his head. "Maybe you aren't anymore."

He didn't know what to say.

Then Gellert shrugged. "Well, that's all right if you don't anymore. If you just are in this for the cause, I'm perfectly fine with this... I mean, my God, Albus... the only reason I pretended to be in love with you was so I could control you. I thought you wouldn't be my partner anymore if I didn't pretend to love you back. If you want to keep it, er, official business only, that is fine."

It was a punch in the gut. He couldn't breathe anymore. He walked over to the sofa wordlessly, sat down, and put his face in his hands. Silent tears began to fall, and he began to shake. He had always known that Gellert didn't love him like Albus loved him, but to hear that the _entire_ thing was a fabrication hurt. He had known that Gellert was using him to an extent, but that he felt absolutely _nothing_... Even worse, he became aware that he was crying not for the Holocaust victims who would not make it through the night, but for himself...

He felt Gellert sit down next to him, but Gellert did not speak. Finally, Albus looked up at him, tears still falling.

"Don't you _understand_?" Albus managed to to say finally. "I _do_ still love you, and I _hate_ that. I hate it!"

"Why?" asked Gellert blankly, looking at Albus as if he was out of his mind. "I'm here. You're here. We're together again. So, what's the issue?"

"I can't believe you just said that," said Albus in despair. "I can't believe you just said you were _pretending_ \- that whole time -"

"All right, all right," interrupted Gellert. "Okay, I was lying. I do love you, always have, always will. I just - you - your words just hurt me, you just rejected me, so I just tried to hurt you back. I'm sorry. I kissed you today, remember?"

Albus closed his eyes and nodded, but he knew Gellert was lying. He didn't have feelings for Albus at all - it had always been about manipulation. Sure, he might be physically attracted to him at best, maybe, but sexual attraction and love were two different things entirely. Gellert was the kind of person who was attracted to anyone that was human anyway. Gellert never loved him - ever. That was why Gellert only started to have feelings for him after Albus had told him, all those years ago, that he was not going to join Gellert in his quest for the Deathly Hallows. Albus had cut it off, so Gellert pretended to love him in order to trap him and use him. Albus had never put two and two together quite like that. He wanted to shrivel up and die.

Gellert reached out and removed his hands from his face. He muttered a quick, "I'm sorry," leaned in, and kissed him again.

Maybe pretending to believe a lie is better than admitting you know it isn't true.

Albus put his arms around him and almost forgot about the damned Elder Wand entirely.

* * *

"Where... where are you going?"

He watched numbly as Gellert put the cloak back on with both the Elder Wand and the spare wand deep within his pockets. He turned to Albus, who was still lying there, his face pale. Dully, Gellert replied, "The place is yours for the night. I'm going to go, and you know why."

_No. No, no, no, no, no..._

"You don't trust me."

"The owner of the Elder Wand cannot trust anyone," said Gellert solemnly. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you understand, given the fact I own the wand that others have killed for. If you really love me, if you really are here to join me, you won't have a problem with this arrangement."

"Well, I do have a problem with it!" said Albus, his voice raising several octaves with each passing word. "You don't even trust me enough to_ fall asleep_?"

"No, I do not trust you enough to lose consciousness in front of you while the Elder Wand is sitting in my robes in plain view for you to take," said Gellert coolly. "Either you will learn to deal with this or you won't. And you should be thanking me, by the way. I just did you a favor. Good night. Don't try to find where I am. You won't be successful."

He swept from the room. Albus heard the door close behind him.

Albus did not move an inch. He just sat there in shock. He did not cry or shake. He was frozen. He had been counting on Gellert falling asleep or at least knowing where it was he slept. He tried to think of a plan - how would he get the wand now?

He had none. Not a single idea.

He looked over at the table where he had left his own wand. It was gone. Gellert had taken it when he wasn't looking. When had he taken it? This was the complete opposite of what was supposed to happen. Gellert had made a fool of him all over again.

Defeated was an understatement. He rolled over, pulled the covers over his head, and cried himself to sleep. He had nightmares of the prisoners all night. Their motionless emaciated bodies stacked high on top of one another in front of the crematoria, their eyes unseeing. Their empty eyes looked back at him as they clearly told him, "Why aren't you doing anything?"

This is what the Greater Good looked like at last.

* * *

_A/N: Goddamn, this is over 8000 words long. I have to stop here. It's a 4-parter after all. Albus is in deep shit here.  
_

_You might be asking why I actually included Hitler at all. Reason is because I wanted him to look pathetic in comparison to Grindelwald. I have heard that he did not do well toward the end of the war. Hitler's fight was ending, but Gellert's was just beginning. Since JK Rowling did say that Grindelwald was connected to Hitler, you have to wonder what kind of a relationship they had. I can't picture it as an equal-to-equal relationship, honestly. And toward the end of the war, Hitler was losing it. _

_Two real life things you might not believe:_

_1\. Yes, Hitler was once an aspiring artist. He was turned down by art school when his paintings/drawings were not good enough and was devastated._

_2\. Dachau and the gas chambers - there is no proof that the gas chambers here were used, but many have pointed out it seems unlikely that the Nazis would build them and then not use them. It is debated. _


	14. Stopping Grindelwald Part 4

_A/N: Final Stopping Grindelwald. Could I have split this chapter up? Yes. But that's not what I'm gonna do. I did consider breaking this up because I know it's been a while since the last update, but I decided I didn't want to lie to you about this being the final chapter and opted for a longer update instead. This is super long. There's probably going to be a lot of mistakes/typos.  
_

_My advice to all of you kids out there reading this fic is don't fall in love with somebody, but if you can't help it, at least make sure it isn't with a psychotic person looking to change the world order by mass murder. I feel so bad for Albus here. Without getting too philosophical now, I'll just say love isn't rational, you can't reason with your feelings, you can't turn it off even when logic is telling you that you have every reason to._

_**Red Furry Demon** \- The translation I originally had for "for the greater good" was off of a Google translate thing. Damn Google! I've seen like 3 different translations for "for the greater good." What the heck? So the translation I changed it to was taken straight from the German translation of Deathly Hallows, yet I've also seen that the German translation in the _official book_ isn't right either. How difficult is it to write "for the greater good" in German! Honestly. Also, I took the name "Fabian" from a list of "popular German male names" that I found. IDK if it's a legit list, if it's not, I'm pissed... In English, we do say "last will and testament," even though it is redundant. It's even how Scrimgeour referred to Dumbledore's will in Deathly Hallows. It's often shorted to just "will," but "last will and testament" is more official somehow... But as for Albus and his, um, master plan last chapter, well... he's going to need to be honest with himself here, which you'll see. Did he think there was a small chance the "plan" might've worked? A small one, yes... but that wasn't his primary motivation for the slash moment. He's still in love with Gellert. The ANGST. I'm so mean to Albus..._

_**fan** \- Aw, thank you! IMO, a flawed Albus is a perfect Albus. We know of his shortcomings since Deathly Hallows, and people seem to hate him for it! They'd rather he be the perfect super-duper good Albus that he's seen as by Harry in books 1-6, but that's boring. He's human! _

_**MagicalWitch92** \- Your English is great - and thank you! Harry/Dumbledore is definitely my favorite dynamic too. _

_**Sue Clover** \- Haha, thanks! Hopefully this does not disappoint, but it probably will. Honestly, I think facing Grindelwald would have been a horrible task. Albus loved the evil little bastard. And then to pretend to still have feelings for him, but actually still having feelings for him, urgh, how awful. Poor Albus..._

_**Guest** \- Thank you much! I have noticed that with fanfics - people borrow the characters, but everything is totally different. I like to stick with not contradicting JK Rowling's world. I mean, it's perfect the way she wrote it! Voldemort/Dumbledore is something I haven't even thought of. I'm not sure if I can pull that off, but I'll think about it! _

_**Amanda** \- I agree totally - I have always thought that. Why would Grindelwald want to risk it? _

_**BrigidSparks** \- Is that a good oh my God or a bad oh my God? Haha! _

* * *

**"Your journey was pointless. I never had it. ... Kill me, then, Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what you seek... There is so much you do not understand..."**

**\- Grindelwald's last words, _Deathly Hallows_, chapter 23**

**"I wanted to be a better brother, better son, wanted to be a better adversary to the evil I have done..."  
**

**\- Twenty One Pilots, _Polarize_**

* * *

_Were you even trying to steal the Elder Wand?_

Roughly fourteen million people had been murdered in the name of the greater good, and Albus was still failing to stop it, even after seeing it firsthand.

After last night, he was certain of one thing: He was not trying hard enough. He wasn't even trying at all. What a pathetic and disastrous attempt that was... if he could call it that...

He had given up on getting a decent night's sleep. Instead, he woke up slightly after three, took a bath because he felt heavily contaminated (it did not help), and then sat up in the early morning hours, waiting for the sun to rise, second-guessing his motivations.

_Were you really even trying to steal the Elder Wand at all? Or did you do that because you are still in love with him?_ He didn't want that question answered. Of course he had done it for the wand... _No, you didn't_, a tiny voice in his head said. _That was just your excuse. _A tear fell from his right eye. The shame Albus was feeling was overwhelming. He was supposed to be Gellert's adversary - his opponent - his polar opposite. Instead, he had let his feelings carry him away... He was still in love with someone he should not love anymore, and it had potentially cost him his wand. Try as hard as he could, he could not polarize himself from Gellert, and despite all the evil things Gellert was responsible for, he still could not see him in an exclusively negative light.

How can you be in love with someone who has supported and aided the killing of millions of innocent people?_ Because you aren't much better yourself. Water seeks its own level. How far would you have gone with your plans for the greater good had Ariana not died? _To Albus, that was the most terrifying question of all. _How far would you have gone for the greater good had Ariana's death not snapped you out of it?_

He could just imagine someone saying to him, "You're trying to stop Grindelwald? If anyone's going to stop him, it's got to be you. So, how did the first day go? Have you made any progress?" To which Albus would have to reply, "Well... not exactly. I have - er - complicated feelings for him... and he took my wand. I don't know how to get it back now." Things were going so well that he had stepped backward.

Yet even if he did get his wand back, he was still quite certain he would never win the unbeatable wand by duel. Gellert was as powerful as him, perhaps Albus was a shade more skillful, but the scales were tipped enormously in Gellert's favor. Furthermore, even if he managed to somehow duel with Gellert, could he _hurt_ him? Could he _kill_ the man he had loved - still loved - had made love to the night previously - would always love? No mask could ever cover up this shame.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to deny that he would have to duel Gellert, and he was quite certain Gellert would kill him in the process, if he ever did get his wand back. Albus still had to die trying. However, his failure would mean that Gellert would freely go on to carry out the Greater Good after all with no serious opponent who could stop him. Maybe someone else would be born someday capable of growing up to stop Grindelwald.

Shortly after the sun had risen, the door opened, and Gellert came in looking wide awake.

"We have a lot to do today," said Gellert simply.

When Albus did not respond, he glanced over at Albus as he tried to fix Gellert with a furious glare.

"What's the matter with you?" Gellert asked.

"You took my wand," said Albus angrily. "You had no right to do that."

Gellert shrugged. "My apologies, but I didn't like the idea of an unsupervised Albus Dumbledore with a wand meandering around while I slept. It did not sit well with me. I'm sure you can understand my apprehension."

"Not particularly," said Albus coldly, "and if partnership is at all what you want from me, you won't take something like that from me. I would have been completely defenseless. You might as well have taken my right arm."

"Who's going to attack you here?"

"All right, why don't you tell me how many nights you have slept without your wand by your side here, despite the fact that you are the only wizard within a great radius?"

Gellert frowned at him for a moment before saying, "Fine, I see your point." He then sighed before sitting down on the bed beside Albus, pulling him close, and kissing him softly. Albus felt amazed, for the thousandth time, at how soft Gellert's lips were, and he felt himself losing his battle to not feel again. Then Gellert pulled him into an embrace, just like he used to do whenever Albus was upset about his brother, his sister, his parents... He tensed but Gellert did not seem to notice.

"I love you," Gellert murmured. Albus felt his heart fluttering against his will, and he closed his eyes in defeat.

He didn't understand what Gellert's feelings for him were. One minute he was completely convinced Gellert had no feelings for him whatsoever and the next he was convinced that there was something there buried deep within, but he also knew full-well that Gellert was a master manipulator._ But it doesn't matter_, he reminded himself fiercely. He was here to stop Gellert's campaign. Love or no love was irrelevant. It was a distraction from his real purpose, and it should not matter.

Gellert pulled Albus back with him until Gellert's back hit the bed board. They sat in silence. Albus wanted to demand upon getting his wand back, but something told him to be silent and wait. He knew his wand had to be on his person, but Gellert had so many deep pockets...

"It's a damn shame you spent all those years teaching those idiot schoolchildren," Gellert said suddenly. "I have to stop and think where we would be had we stayed together. The Statute of Secrecy would have already been overthrown, I think. I never would have teamed up with Hitler. I never would have let Hitler's little revolution happen. We never would've had to mass execute Muggles because we would have had them under our control from early on."

Oh, great. So now the entire Holocaust and World War II was Albus Dumbledore's fault. Of course. Whose fault would it be if not his?

"But no matter. It will all be over soon. The suffering will be over soon; the killing will be over soon."

"We don't have to kill any Muggles at all," muttered Albus thickly.

"Yes, we do. There are just too many."

Albus did not dare say more for fear of letting his true feelings show for a long while. Then he heard himself say, "Ariana always liked you for some reason. She liked you more than she liked me."

"Al, you have to stop thinking about Ariana. Let the past go."

Then Gellert straightened up, Albus following suit.

"This is my last day here at Dachau, I fear," said Gellert, his tone serious.

"Why do you say this?" asked Albus.

"It will be liberated soon, which is a damn shame, but it will be." Gellert sighed and stood up slowly. "Let's go have breakfast. Come on."

"I have no appetite."

Gellert rolled his eyes. "Yes, you do. You have to eat. Now get up and follow me."

Reluctantly, Albus did so. They left and went down the hallway to yet another place Albus had not seen before.

"Dachau," Gellert said carefully, "is going to die out. The Nazis are frantically trying to destroy evidence. The war is lost. They want to erase all the paperwork of concentration camps so that they world does not see their doings. Nazi Germany is being invaded - taken over - by the Allies. It is obvious to me, though the Nazis refuse to admit it outright, that the end of Dachau is near. What is going to happen is all of our remaining prisoners are going to to go on a march - a very long one, at that. A death march. They will be forced to walk for days. Anyone who cannot keep up or who falls down will be shot. They want to make the prisoners march to the coasts to be drowned. Weird solution, isn't it?"

Albus muttered a yes.

"Yes, these people do not have much longer. Like always, the weak will die first. We have Nurmengard, but Albus, we do have a problem. I do not know what the Allies will do with all of these eighteen concentration camps. I do not know if they will be flattened or bombed or torn down or left to stand. Nurmengard isn't very large. We will need somewhere to kill off the inferior Muggles. Even with all eighteen concentration camps running non-stop... it would take a long time to kill off the inferior life forms... So many worthless Muggles and only so much prussic acid. What do you propose we do with them?"

_Pretend. Pretend, pretend, pretend -_

"I would like to see Nurmengard," said Albus finally. "What kind of a place is it and what happens there? Is it in Nuremberg or...?"

"No, but there is a connection between the two. And you will get to see it. We're going to visit it tomorrow morning. It is like a Wizarding concentration camp," said Gellert softly. "My Wizarding enemies go there to slowly die. People in the Wizarding community that I needed to silence. People who have threatened the Greater Good. The vast majority of them are German."

"Couldn't... I know the inferior Muggles are an expense because they require food and water. Couldn't we just round them up and let them starve to death?" said Albus, hating his response.

"That makes sense," said Gellert, "but it does actually take a long time for people to starve. In addition, if we left them unattended, they would probably resort to cannibalism and an anarchy or something. It has happened in some concentration camps. These walls have seen many things, not all of which you will find in the documents the Nazis are attempting to destroy... I was actually thinking that perhaps wizards and witches could all take turns killing them off with _Avada Kedavra_. It would be like a civic duty. Everyone would have to do it in brief rotations as a service to the rest of the world. Honestly though, nothing seems like a good solution. We never should have let the Muggles overpopulate with inferior beings like this. It is such a mess to clean up. I can understand why Hitler said he faced such a difficult task - how do we get rid of the ones we do not want permanently? I can't stand the disabled Muggles."

"How many should we have killed off?" Albus asked calmly as a flurry of exhausted-looking Nazis passed them going in the opposite direction.

"There are 2.35 billion people in the world today," replied Gellert. "Over two billion. The Wizarding population makes up less than 1% of that total. It's only about 0.5% actually, on a good day. Now, since wizards are superior, I do not think it would be difficult for us to control the Muggles, but 2.35 billion people is simply far too many for us to handle. Do you know what 0.5% of 2.35 billion is?"

Albus had to think for only a second. "Eleven million, seven-hundred and fifty thousand."

"Quite right. There are too many of them for us. We need to get rid of the ones that will cost society too much and keep the ones that can pull their own weight. I want to cut the Muggle population by 15-20%."

"There aren't that many disabled Muggles -"

"The disabled ones are a good start," Gellert interrupted, "but that does not mean other lesser ones will not be good enough to make the cut. I hope all the Muggles here die on the death march. They would be too difficult to nurse back to health anyway. It would not be worth it. They have nothing to offer. Fourteen million Muggles dead. That is not enough. The population used to be kept in check better in the past. Have you heard about antibiotics? The Muggles aren't dying as much as they need to..."

Albus bit back his words and walked in silence.

* * *

A total of eight train cars arrived that afternoon.

"All dead," Gellert said, sounding disgusted as he and the Nazis peered inside of each boxcar. "Ah well."

"We have one survivor," said a Nazi. A boy was standing before him. He looked like was around ten or eleven years old. Roughly first-year age. He had red hair, a pale face, and he was trembling as Gellert looked him up and down.

"No," Gellert said, "he is too young. He is an expense."

"He could work," Albus interrupted in German, thinking of his own first-years.

Gellert fixed him with a glare.

"No, there are no survivors," said Gellert in finality.

As Gellert led a torn Albus away, Gellert said, "You have to stop being so emotional and sentimental. It's no different than if you were a Muggle hunting animals to survive. Could you ever even shoot a deer, Albus, or would you have too much sympathy for it? You'll starve if you don't kill it. It's all about survival and logic. I don't want to pay for a useless ten-year-old to live, and I don't want the German people to either. Sometimes life has unpleasant realities. Sometimes, some have to die for the betterment of the rest of us."

Albus did not trust himself to speak.

"Maybe children are the solution," Gellert continued, sounding as if he was speaking more to himself than to Albus. "Perhaps we should just cut the children's population severely and wait for the population number to drop. Less Muggles breeding, less babies, less Muggles. Or maybe we should limit each Muggle to having only one child. But that would take a long time to finally make a difference - too long - and reinforcing it would be a massive task. Or maybe we should do both. I'm not sure, Albus. How are we going to kill all these people?"

"If it weren't for Muggles, we would have died out."

"Yes, I know that, Albus. The Muggles are necessary, but there is something called 'too much.' You think I like sending Muggle children to their deaths? I don't. Especially the German ones. My allegiance is first to German wizards and witches, then to all magical blood, and last to Muggles. I love Wizarding children, actually. The ones on our side love me."

* * *

It was three hours past noon when Gellert actually looked at him for the first time in hours.

"Come on, Albus. Come talk to me."

So Albus followed him back to the small quarters where Gellert lived. Even with all the window drapes open, it was still dark inside. The sun had not shone all day. Albus hated to hear the door click closed behind him again, feeling that his life was going to end whenever he was alone with Gellert.

"Gellert," Albus said in a little voice before Gellert could speak first.

Gellert's eyes locked with his.

"I would like my wand back," said Albus softly.

The other man did not respond at first. Instead, he walked over to the sofa and sat down heavily. Albus eventually followed suit, and he sat there in silence, counting the minutes passing. It was clear Gellert was not going to reply just yet.

"You gave up on finding the Cloak and the Stone," said Albus eventually.

Gellert raised his head to meet Albus' gaze. His eyes looked haunted, and Albus had to wonder what on earth could be troubling such a heartless human being.

"No, I haven't," Gellert denied. "It's just that the Cloak and the Stone aren't as valuable. I would like to have them all someday, but I don't believe possessing all three makes you immortal anymore. 'Master of Death' is just a metaphor... I'm not seventeen anymore; I don't believe in such things... Do you still want the Resurrection Stone?"

Albus closed his eyes. "Yes, but not like I wanted it back then... I would still like to see my parents and apologize..."

"You feel too much, Al, that's the problem. You don't want the Stone for its power, you want it to help you with your guilt. I don't want you to feel. I want you to think. You aren't the brilliant young man you used to be."

"And I want you to respect me," Albus shot back. "Before Ariana's death, I was your equal, remember? That slogan of yours that you have etched on Dachau's gate - 'For the Greater Good' - who thought of it? I did. Who told you that the Elder Wand was with Gregorovitch? I did. And who ran away after Ariana was killed by accident? _You_ did. You ran away and left me in the dust without a clue of what I was thinking. It is your damn fault it has come to this - this Muggle war that you've made your own that is now losing - not mine. I was always your equal, and that's all I'm looking for from you. In case you've forgotten the score, so far you have used me last night, left me, and stolen my wand. That is where we are. If you want me to be your equal, you have to treat me like one."

"Your heart isn't in for the greater good anymore."

"My heart is wherever yours is."

Gellert narrowed his eyes and looked away. He was silent for a long time. Then he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out Albus' wand. He looked back at Albus and said, "I want this back when you go to sleep._ I_ won't be able to sleep without it."

"Fine," Albus muttered angrily, "though I think you already don't really sleep at night."

Gellert handed the wand over and said, "Somewhat true, yes. But here you are, equal. Just remember I'm still the one with the unbeatable wand here."

Albus took his wand back, looking determined. "Where are we exactly going tomorrow after we leave Dachau? Nurmengard, you said"

"Just outside Nurmengard," replied Gellert quietly. "Ever heard of Windsbach? Just along the main river. Only wizards can see it, of course. It is quite secluded - almost as if there is war going on at all. Enough with these Muggles, don't you think?"

"Quite. I still really do not understand why you are so involved with the Nazi Party in the first place, to be honest."

"They are good manufacturers of weeding out the unnecessary people."

Albus studied his fingernails for a moment before saying, "Are you very upset that the Nazis are losing the war?"

"Yes, but I will live. I do feel very bad for the German people though."

Albus made a face. "The Nazis are killing off _their own_ people. Surely you don't think the Nazis actually care for the German civilians. It is all for world domination, no matter who is killed in the process."

"I see. You only have heard the story from the Allies, haven't you?" said Gellert, his voice cold, expression hard. "Yes, I can see that on your face. Your knowledge of World War II has been told to you by the Allies and the Allies alone. You think the Axis is evil while the Allies are good. It is the Allies' newspapers you cling dear to your heart, not the ones who disagree. I'm disappointed, Albus. You should be old and wise enough to know that history is always written by the victors. Do you know what the Allies have done to innocent men, women, and children? No, you don't. You have no idea. You only know what the Allies have told you. You should know that the Allies are not exactly angelic. Do you know what the Red Army has done? They rape. They kill. They bomb. They torture. They show no mercy for any German. I wish I lived in your world, Albus, where there is only good and bad, white and black, no gray areas, nothing in between..."

Albus swallowed with difficulty and did not know what to say.

"You think I'm completely wrong about everything, don't you?"

Albus looked up to find Gellert smiling knowingly.

"No, I don't," denied Albus, "I just think you and I might have to debate, negotiate, and compromise our positions in order to work together, that is all."

"Sure," said Gellert dismissively. "By the way, what is it with the beard? Because that's something I refuse to compromise over. It's got to go. Scratches my face."

"I'm sorry," Albus said, bizarrely finding that he was truly apologizing.

Gellert smiled softly before coming toward Albus. He touched Albus' wrist gently. They stood close to one another, and Albus felt the same horrible sensation he was becoming fast familiar to of feeling when not wanting to feel any emotion, only wanting to think...

"I'm sorry I hurt you, back then," Gellert said softly, and Albus could feel his warm breath on his lips. "With Ariana and all. I know I shouldn't have run away like that."

_Stop talking_, Albus thought.

"I shouldn't have run away. You wouldn't have hurt me, would you? I don't think you would have. I mean, you are pathetic. Hopelessly pathetic. You haven't been with anyone else since then, have you?"

"No," he breathed, and Gellert shook his head sadly.

"Well, we will have the rest of our lives to make up for that time."

Albus nodded blindly, wanting it to be true, even though he knew it wasn't. That was how it always went. Gellert would come close to him and say something, and Albus would nod like an idiot, no matter what he had said.

* * *

He wanted to lock the door behind him, but he knew better than to do so. The click would have sent off just paranoia inside of Gellert. Hands trembling, he looked around the tiny space surrounding him. He was still surprised that Gellert was even allowing him to go to the restroom without supervision. This time, he was not hiding in one to cry.

There was no window in the restroom, but that did not matter. Gellert had watched him like he was constantly waiting for an attack all day, but Albus had still managed to steal a napkin at breakfast and a cap-less, half-chewed pen shortly after the train had arrived with all the bodies. If it had not been for their correspondence earlier, Albus would have believed that Gellert owned no owl. Wherever Gellert's owl was, he was being hidden. Albus, however, had something better than an owl.

He frantically jotted down a disjointed sentence onto the napkin, straightened up, turned on the water faucet, and whispered, "Fawkes."

The phoenix knew better than to make a grand entrance. He knew there was a reason why Albus had whispered, why he had been missing for days without taking Fawkes with him. There was a tiny burst of flame and Fawkes appeared in near silence. The sound of the flame was drowned out by the running water. Fawkes landed lightly on the edge of the sink and looked at Albus expectantly.

Albus handed the napkin over to the bird, who took it in his beak. Albus pet him on the head out of courtesy and whispered, "Take it to the Auror Department. Straightaway. Make a fuss if you have to. Get their attention. I don't care if they've gone home for the day, find McDaniel, make her take this seriously."

Fawkes looked at him for a few seconds before disappearing with a flash of light, taking the napkin with him. He was gone.

Albus wasn't quite sure what he was feeling. It was done now.

He rearranged his expression into a bored, relaxed one before going back to Gellert.

"Gellert, where is your owl anyway?" he asked casually when he had found him before sitting down.

Gellert gave him a sharp look from across the table. "None of your business. Why, do you want to contact someone in the Wizarding world?"

"No," said Albus. "I was just curious. I merely realized that I hadn't seen him since I arrived. Am I not allowed to have any correspondence with anyone?"

"No, you aren't."

"You are far too paranoid, Gellert. Possessive."

"I ought to be," Gellert shot back. "I have the Elder Wand."

"I thought it was 'we' have the Elder Wand."

"No. It's 'me.'"

"Fine," said Albus in a far lighter tone than he truly felt, "though it seems you are possessive of me as well, not just the Elder Wand."

"You're another Deathly Hallow," Gellert muttered. "Same difference."

When he did not reply, Gellert looked back up at him to find him staring.

* * *

Tomorrow would be the end, whether it be a victory or a defeat. He would, of course, continue to watch for an opportunity to steal the wand, but he already knew Gellert would never let his guard down. Albus was going to make his move tomorrow at Nurmengard. The date was set, the note sent. Either he will win or he will die. There were no other options. Logic was telling Albus there was no way he could ever win, but yet...

* * *

When you are the Head of the Auror Department, sometimes you live "off the grid." It isn't always easy for someone to find Suzanne McDaniel. Sometimes, she was even so disconnected, owls could not find her. Therefore, it was a great surprise when a phoenix burst into her living room in a flash of fire.

Suzanne's children had long retired for the night, but she was sitting up late with her husband, Gene, despite how tired they both were. Suzanne drew her wand instinctively and jumped to her feet before the phoenix had even landed on her coffee table. In its beak was what appeared to be a dingy napkin. The bird dropped the napkin on the table in front of her and looked up at her expectantly.

She thought she knew whose phoenix this was. Albus Dumbledore had a phoenix, but she had never seen it up close, or even knew its name. Slowly, Suzanne reached out and retrieved the napkin. On one side of it was a collection of words written in a hurried and disjointed fashion - not by a quill, but by a Muggle pen, which was extremely rare in the Wizarding World. The words were engorged deeply on its surface.

_Grindelwald - tomorrow morning - Nurmengard - Windsbach - "along the main river" - do not attack until I disarm him  
_

She stared hard at these words. She thought she knew whose handwriting this was, though it was not as neat as Albus Dumbledore's handwriting normally was.

"What is it?" Gene asked impatiently.

"My God," she muttered, hardly noticing when the phoenix disappeared with another flash of flame.

"What?" her husband repeated with a greater sense of urgency.

She straightened herself. "Grindelwald. It appears no one in the Auror Department will be getting any sleep tonight."

Gene's eyes widened. "Someone's found him?"

"Yes. Yes, I think so."

* * *

On display for the entire Auror Department to see were several large maps of Germany - some written in English, others in German. The Aurors were arguing. Some had shown up to the Ministry in their pajamas, apparently thinking they were only be at work for an hour or so. They were swiftly turned to change and get ready for a long night.

"How do we know this really is from Dumbledore? I mean, he isn't the only person in the world that has a phoenix, is he?"

"I recognize that handwriting - that's definitely from Dumbledore."

"But Dumbledore's cracked up - he disappeared without a trace. He left Hogwarts and hasn't shown up for anything."

"Obviously, that's because he went after Grindelwald, and he's found him. Or at least he's found out where he'll be tomorrow. This is definitely genuine."

"Maybe it's a trap. Maybe it isn't because he wants us to stop Grindelwald. Maybe this is a trap to kill us all off so Grindelwald can take control of Britain at last."

"That's ridiculous. Dumbledore was my teacher when I was a kid; there's no way he would ever do something like join Gellert Grindelwald."

"Whether it's real or not, we can't ignore this. If Grindelwald really is going to be in Windsbach tomorrow, we have to be there."

Silence fell.

"You all know I have my children," Suzanne said finally. "I know most of you have your families that are counting on you too. But I am going to visit Windsbach tomorrow. I think the cost of my life is worth it if I have a chance to bring Grindelwald into custody. I am going. However, I will not command nor demand any of you join me. You are an Auror at your own choosing. If you do not come with me, I will not hold any of you at fault. The choice is yours alone."

No one spoke. Everyone turned over these words. No one moved to leave. Then -

"So where is Windsbach exactly?" asked a balding silver-haired man named Dwight.

It was clear everyone would be accompanying Suzanne.

"It's here," a woman named Allison said, pointing to a map. "That's not too far from Nuremburg. Which is exactly -"

"Where we thought it would be. Yes," agreed Dwight. "And Ansbach - that is much smaller than Nuremburg, and Windsbach is even smaller than that -"

"So it would be a way from an obvious target," another man named David said. "The Muggles are bombing the shit out of Nuremburg. Not so with somewhere small like Windsbach. What is the population anyway? Can't be more than a few thousand, right? Definitely less than ten thousand..."

"Grindelwald always said that Nurmengard would never be bombed," Allison said. "Granted, he said that in 1944, but still -"

"A small town along a little river does seem like an odd location, yes," agreed Suzanne. "But it would also be a very safe location, as safe as Nazi Germany can be at the time, at least. I am sure the Muggles cannot see it."

"But the river," said another man, "what river is it along? There are countless numbers of rivers in Germany -"

"This map isn't detailed enough to show the rivers in Windsbach," Suzanne said. "We need to find a more detailed map - I am sure we have one somewhere -"

"I think it's the Danube," someone said. "I think that river runs through there, but I'm not completely sure."

"We need as many maps as we can find -"

The door to the Auror meeting room opened. A young man closed it silently behind him. The Aurors immediately tried to conceal the maps, looking like children hiding something they were not supposed to have. It did not matter that this young man worked for the _Daily Prophet_; he was not an Auror, so he was an outsider who should have known better than to waltz into an Auror Department meeting uninvented.

"Can I help you?" Suzanne said sternly.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but -"

"This is a restricted zone -"

"I know, but... well, I know that the Auror Department would only be here this late if it related to Grindelwald, and... I think there's something you might want to know."

The young man put a rough draft of the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ along with a German newspaper. The English title read, 'Dumbledore Joins Grindelwald: The Wizarding German Newspaper Reports.'

"I thought you should know," the young man continued uncertainly, "that the... the - _Die Bessere Menschen - _I think it is - will be reporting Albus Dumbledore joined Grindelwald days before. As to its validity of such a claim, we can make none, but given Dumbledore's rather mysterious disappearance... we are going to print the story. It is from a reliable source. That is why we are here so late, like you... It should be out this morning, just two or three hours behind the German one."

There was a lengthy pause in which the Aurors stared at the young worker of the press while the young man looked back at them as if hoping the Aurors would tell him it was all a lie. The Aurors did no such thing.

"Thank you," Suzanne said. "Thank you, sir - er - could you perhaps leave the English rough draft or the German one or both? Thank you."

The young man left rather reluctantly, leaving behind both newspapers.

"Do we ask the _Daily Prophet_ to not print the story?" Dwight asked finally.

"No," Suzanne said, her mouth dry. "It is freedom of the press, and if it is already going to be out there in _The Better People_, it won't be long until the rest of the Wizarding world knows too. As for whether it is true or not, we will find out tomorrow. What time is it there, in Windsbach, right now? Is it really only one hour ahead of us? We need to find that river, find Nurmengard, and prepare for whatever is in store for us there."

* * *

The thing that was on Albus Dumbledore's mind last night was not what he thought it would be.

He had been on the border of falling asleep in Gellert's arms, hoping that Gellert would fall asleep, but he, of course, did not. Gellert slowly got up, and Albus let him go without protest. He saw Gellert take his wand and leave wordlessly, but Albus found that he did not even care. He knew it would happen this way anyway. Now, there were two things that were going through his head; two abstract things that he realized he did not understand at all. Those things were forgiveness and hope.

Albus realized he had never truly known what hope was. He had once heard that hope was something that could be found in only the darkest places. People whose lives were only happy, and full, and successful... these people did not know hope because they never have had to cling to hope before. It was the people who had lived in despair, in doubt, in pain, in fear - they knew hope more than a happy person. Hope belongs in the dark places. It resides only along the darkest crevices of the world. No logical person would ever believe that Albus had a single shred of a chance of beating Gellert tomorrow. Yet Albus was clinging to hope.

Forgiveness, however, was the thing that was most on his mind. He didn't know why, but just the word _forgiveness_ made tears fall. He thought about Ariana, his father, his mother, his brother... would they ever forgive him? Could they? Should they? Did he even deserve it? The things he had done. You were ten years old, Albus. You were a child. It wasn't your fault those mothers attacked her. It wasn't your fault your father went after them. It wasn't your fault he died two years later in Azkaban. It wasn't your fault Ariana killed your mother. It wasn't your fault you fell in love with an attractive and manipulative boy. It isn't your fault you're homosexual. You are an imperfect person, but that isn't your fault. They would forgive you. God would forgive you. And you would be forgiven if you fail to stop him tomorrow.

This was the twist in what Albus' greatest desire was - he not only wanted his family together, happy and whole - he wanted them to forgive him more than anything, for the rest of his life, up until the year 1995.

* * *

The sun rose like it always did that day. He couldn't see it, as his window only viewed the southwest, but he watched as the sky changed color.

Gellert came in to retrieve him like he had the day before. He gave him his wand back without him having to ask. Albus watched what pocket he took it out of.

"We're having breakfast and then going straight there," said Gellert. "I am done with the Muggle side of the war. Hitler had a nice run, but there is much more to be done. How many British wizards and witches do you think you could convince to support our cause? Or is the Ministry full of Muggle-lovers?"

Albus stood up slowly and brought himself close to Gellert. Wordlessly, he put a hand on Gellert's chest and leaned in and kissed him. Then he slowly brushed his hand downward, to Gellert's left, and the effect was immediate. Gellert grabbed his hand and pushed him away roughly. Albus arranged his face into what he hoped was a hurt expression. Quickly, Gellert seemed to try to cover his tracks.

"Don't do that," he snapped. "You know I can't - and what's the matter with you, anyway? I'm trying to have a discussion with you, and you're still acting like a pathetic, love-struck teenager. Does your brilliant mind ever think of anything else?"

Albus' mouth twitched into a smile. "Not particularly, no."

It looked like Gellert was having a difficult time not smiling now, however tense he was. "Well, you need to work on that. We're going to go eat and then we will leave. While we're in public, do try to control yourself, will you?"

"Yes, Gellert," he replied softly as he followed him out of the room. He had gotten what he was after. He knew which pocket the Elder Wand was in. "And Gellert?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"I love you, you believe me?" Albus said. He knew it was the last time he would say that, so he didn't care how awkward it was.

"Whatever," said Gellert dismissively. "And also," he continued after he had closed the door and they started down the hallway, "I know I haven't given you any newspapers since you arrived, but you might want to see this morning's edition of the_ Daily Prophet_."

"And why is this?" asked Albus, cold dread filling him.

"The press knows you've rejoined the cause. I might've let it slip yesterday."

Albus said nothing. He could just imagine how awful the headlines were - how his students' faces would look.

* * *

Nurmengard looked absolutely nothing like he had expected. Windsbach appeared to be peaceful, like something out of a Muggle postcard. The river was stronger than Albus thought it would be, and situated right upon the river was a very tall and dark tower, with a large square building at the front. The tower, even compared to the large square building, was massive. Unlike the Muggle concentration camps, this building was not protected by electric wiring or fencing, and there were no watchtowers waiting for someone to try to escape. This fortress was protected by magic. Albus could see it. The square building at the front was obviously the entrance. It was protected by enchantments, but not as much as the tower was. Albus shivered.

"This is Nurmengard?" he finally asked.

"So it is. What, is it not big enough for you or...?"

"How many people are there imprisoned?"

"Just over two hundred," Gellert replied casually. "Nothing as massive as Dachau, I fear. But then again, I do not have a lot of Wizarding enemies in Germany anymore, so there's no need. Now, when we go for the United Kingdom, then we will need something more."

"Do you work and starve them to death here or is that simply a Muggle concentration camp concept?"

Gellert chuckled. "No, I don't make them work. They simply are thrown in a cell and left to waste away. We feed them, just not a generous amount. Enough to keep them alive, but thin. They stay in one cell until their death."

"Still more humane than Azkaban," said Albus darkly. He looked at their surroundings, hoping that he could get some sign or clue that the Aurors had gotten his message and were watching. He saw absolutely no indication of this. His blood turned cold at the possibility that no one was here. He had instructed them not to interfere, but even if he did manage to snatch the Elder Wand away, he didn't know how injured he would be in the process. And if he was going to die, at least he would not die alone if they were only here. Or would Gellert comfort him as he lay dying at the hand of the Elder Wand's doing?

"Albus, what in the hell are you looking for?"

"Nothing. Nurmengard just looks extraordinarily out of place in this context, that is all."

"That's the whole point. I don't want the Muggles to bomb it into smithereens. I don't think even your magic could make it withstand the weapons the Muggles have invented now. Come on, I'll show it to you."

Albus followed. He was trying to stand behind Gellert, to fall back as if he was simply depending on him to lead him, but it seemed Gellert knew not to have his back turned on him. Albus did not dare reach for his own wand, but he kept his gaze fixed on the pocket the Elder Wand currently resided. He wondered if the Aurors were able to break past the enchantments at the square antechamber to the tower. There was no way possible that they could have broken past that and into the tower. The magical properties, no matter how advanced the Auror department was, were outside of their capabilities. Either the Aurors would be in the antechamber building, or he would be entirely alone.

"I want you to make a speech, or at least a statement, to Britain," said Gellert as the two did an awkward dance where Albus continued to try to fall behind and Gellert refused to keep his back to him. "I don't trust you to write it yourself or anything, but I want you to come up with something and I'll examine it. You're quite popular over there, it seems."

"I used to be."

The square building was a single room with dark walls. It was, except for a large reception area seemingly manned by only two people, nearly completely empty, and Albus thought he had a feeling what it was used for.

Albus continued to walk only slightly behind Gellert. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. He was terrified, and with every step, he felt panic gripping him. He still was not ready - he was not in a good position - but he feared going past the two men at the front because he knew he would be terrifying alone, though he was not sure if the Aurors had even been here...

"Gellert, I'm not sure that we should be killing Muggle children at all," Albus said, not really caring what he was saying. "They might be beneficial to us."

"That's ridiculous," Gellert countered immediately, firing up. "Al, how many fucking times to I have to debate this with you - ?"

Gellert halted ten feet before the two men at the front. He knew something was off - he knew something was wrong - but Albus didn't know what it was - he was running out of time -

Albus drew his wand in one swift movement and thought _Accio Elder Wand_ -

But Gellert was too quick for him. He caught it as it had just appeared flying out of his pocket, and he faced Albus with it raised like the lethal weapon it was. This was exactly what Albus had been trying to avoid this entire time: a duel against one of the most powerful wizards ever to exist brandishing the most powerful wand that had ever existed. All Albus' efforts had been for nothing. There was no undoing this. He let out a scream of frustration and sent another spell at Gellert, which the Elder Wand easily deflected.

"It's a shame," Gellert said shakily, looking very white in the face, "I almost was convinced you were mine again."

Albus sent one, two, three, four curses at him, all in vain. Everything was falling apart, and there was nothing he could do about it. It felt so odd to be the attacker, the aggressor. Albus never attacked anybody; he had never sent curses like this at anyone.

"_Stop_ it," hissed Gellert. "Albus, you can't win, stop it. I'll let you walk away, for old time's sake."

He only responded by sending another curse at him, and this time Albus saw Gellert's arm shake with the shock of deflecting it.

"You idiot! You know you can't win! Do you honestly think I would have ever let you find me if I didn't know it might be the possibility that I will have to kill you? You aren't being noble; you're being suicidal. Don't make me murder you. Walk away!"

_Why are you trying to save me?_ He went another curse at him, and while Gellert was able to deflect it, a deep gash still appeared on his wand arm. He simply looked at Albus for a second as if saying,_ How could you? _Then Gellert responded with a curse of his own, and it was Albus' turn to defend himself.

Then Albus heard a noise, a bird singing, and he knew Fawkes had joined him. He saw a flash of red swoop past Gellert. Gellert's eyes widened as he watched the bird fly around the room in wait, and Albus realized that Gellert was smart enough to be afraid of a phoenix that was not on his side. Most were not.

Gellert turned his attention back to Albus in time to defend himself from the next blow. Then he sent another spell at Albus, and even though Albus knew what nonverbal curse it was, he had never encountered that curse dealing such a serious threat. Albus realized that it was pointless, it was futile, everything Albus tried was not going to work, and now Gellert was not holding back.

"Where did you get the parrot?" asked Gellert as he watched Albus trying to stay upright.

He did not respond. He was throwing more spells at Gellert than he could be cognizant of, but it was pointless - Gellert was able to put each one aside while throwing a few spells at Albus in between. Albus was trying to overwhelm his opponent, but Gellert was not tiring. Fawkes seemed to understand that Albus needed to get that wand out of Gellert's hands, because he soon swooped down and attempted to take it straight from Gellert. That made Gellert very angry, so he then began to send a curse at Fawkes, but the bird disappeared with a flash of flames and then reappeared behind him. Now Gellert had two things he had to try to stop. Finally, Gellert was able to hit Fawkes. The phoenix fell to the ground, a newborn.

Albus knew he was going to die like this.

He was becoming exhausted. Nothing, nothing in all his knowledge of magic was enough for the Elder Wand. He was going to die like this. He wondered if his students would ever know that he had not really joined Grindelwald. He wondered if the Aurors would regret not being here. He wondered how many people were going to die for the greater good with no Albus Dumbledore to stop it.

A curse slipped through Albus' shield - Gellert had just been too fast. Albus knew he didn't recognize what curse this was, but it really would not matter in the end. He felt it hit him in his left arm, and he knew he was already dead. He began to fall to the ground, tremors racking his body. He saw the triumph light Gellert's face, but Albus had one last spell. It was not really a curse - it was only slightly more than a child's jinx. But it was enough. Before Albus lost consciousness, he was dimly aware that Gellert had just fallen to the ground. Figures started to move - the Aurors had come forward. This was how it would be: Dumbledore would die, but Grindelwald had fallen with him. Equals in every regard.

* * *

"I don't know this magic," a Healer at St. Mungo's was saying. "Stun him, he's shaking too much -"

"Not even the Aurors know what this is," another said. "No one in the entire Ministry of Magic knows what this is. Odds are, Grindelwald invented it himself."

"It's..." a younger Healer began tentatively, "this is... this is a spell that's attacking his nervous system. That's what the Muggles call it. I - wanted to be a doctor - as a child, before I knew that I was a witch. It's his nervous system. Can't we explore any Muggle medicine that would treat it?"

"Don't be ridiculous -"

"She's not being ridiculous," the first Healer said firmly. "We have no antidote. He is going to die anyway. We might as well try something, in conjunction with what we can do."

"Fine. Fine. We will try."

* * *

Albus woke with a start, as if someone had just drenched him in cold water. He did not know where he was, the time, month, or even the year, but he noticed right away that he felt very weak and sick. His distress must have shown, because he then heard a man's voice say, "Calm down. You're fine."

He struggled to sit up high enough to look to his right, where the voice came from. Though he had not seen him in many years, this man at his bedside was clearly his brother. Albus blinked at him, and then he suddenly remembered.

"_Where's Grindelwald?_" he said suddenly. "What happened - ?"

"It's over," Aberforth said with a familiar scowl. "You're in St. Mungo's. You've really done it this time. All of Britain is currently hero-worshipping you. They're even putting your stupid face on Chocolate Frog cards. You defeated Grindelwald and almost paid with your life. Do you remember at all?"

"Is he - he's not - I didn't kill him, right?"

Aberforth grumbled to himself but managed to not roll his eyes. "No, he's not dead. He's in custody. You both nearly killed one another, from what I've heard anyway."

Aberforth then reached under his chair and snatched a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. He threw it roughly onto Albus' lap. The header had the largest print Albus had ever seen the newspaper use. The headline read _**DUMBLEDORE DEFEATS GRINDELWALD**_ in bolded, italicized, and all capital letters. Albus found himself not knowing what to say.

"I reckon you could say you're pretty famous as of late," Aberforth said finally.

Albus swallowed as his brain tried to catch up. "How long have I been out?"

Aberforth's mouth twitched into a smile before saying, "Nearly three weeks."

"_Three weeks?_"

"Yeah. I told you that you both nearly killed each other, didn't I? Grindelwald hit you with a spell that the Healers have never seen before. It attacked your nervous system, they said. They thought you were going to die. They were so desperate they even gave you some Muggle medicine... I guess something, either magic or Muggle remedy, worked. Or a combination of the two. Notice that twitch in your left hand?"

Albus looked down on his hands that were resting on the newspaper. There was a small but visible tremor in his left hand.

"That's where the spell hit you," Aberforth went on. "It was worse, far worse, when they first brought you in. After you were hit, you somehow hit Grindelwald back, from the ground almost, they say. You both went down together, and that's when the Aurors took over. I guess you were an even match."

Albus swallowed again and said, "Why are you talking to me?"

"Don't know," Aberforth said, sounding indifferent. "When's the last time we talked?"

Albus knew fully that his brother remembered the last time they had "spoken" to one another.

"It was Ariana's funeral," Albus said, "when you yelled at me and then punched me in the face."

Aberforth shrugged. "Thought so. Four decades then."

Albus did not know what to say. He didn't know if he should apologize for Ariana's death or if that would just create additional tension; he didn't know if he should thank his brother for being here with him or if that would make Aberforth uncomfortable, so he opted for silence instead.

"The war's over," Aberforth said as he shuffled through more newspapers. "Wizarding and Muggle ones. Well, the Muggle one is still going a bit, but everyone's saying the fighting's just about over - they're saying it'll come to a close this year. The Allies just have to beat the Japanese. Hitler's dead, so."

"How did - ?"

"He killed himself. I don't know the details of how or why. I guess he just knew he'd lost and he checked out. I have the Muggle papers here," he said as he threw more newspapers on Albus' lap. "I tried reading them, but you know I'm rubbish at it. Maybe you'll understand them, you probably will, you're the brilliant one…. Yep, Hitler lost. And with his mate Grindelwald gone, I guess the bastard just gave up."

Albus sat in silence for several minutes. He then noticed that Aberforth was watching him very intently.

"So, how did you find him – corner him?" Aberforth said finally. "Nobody could find him."

Albus cringed and closed his eyes. "I wrote him a couple of letters."

"Letters," Aberforth echoed.

Albus sighed and reopened his eyes. "Yes, letters. I knew that Grindelwald had the advantage. I knew that if I could get him to trust me again, I might be able to get him while he was looking the other way... I didn't think I would survive a fair fight, but with the lives of millions and immeasurable human suffering resting on the outcome, I was fine with fighting an unfair fight. There would be no honor in it, but he would be imprisoned or dead just the same. I am not exactly proud of it. But it didn't work out. I had to duel him anyway, and I won. I don't know how I won."

"And why," Aberforth said slowly, "do you say Grindelwald had the advantage?"

"He just did," Albus said, not wanting to talk about the Elder Wand that had been Grindelwald's. "Where is his wand, by the way?"

"It's in the drawer of your night stand," Aberforth said, still watching him closely. "You beat him – everyone figured you should do what you want with it."

Albus looked to his left and opened the drawer quickly. There it was, the Elder Wand that he had somehow beat when he wasn't supposed to.

"Just out in the open?" Albus remarked in alarm. He grabbed it and put it in his pocket as if a random mad person would come to grab it from him.

"Don't change the subject," Aberforth said, evidently not realizing how important and dangerous Grindelwald's former wand was. "What kind of letters did you send him to find him?"

"Oh. Well, I sent him letters saying how sorry I was, and that I quit my job at Hogwarts and wanted to join him, and that…" He closed his eyes and cricked his neck. He could not bring himself to say that four letter word.

Aberforth pulled the same face he used to use on Albus whenever that topic came up (it was always Aberforth who brought it up). "That's fucking disgusting," he said, sounding exactly like the fifteen-year-old version of himself who had called Albus names and had broken his nose all those years ago. "And Grindelwald actually _believed_ you were still totally smitten with him?"

"Not exactly," Albus said with his color rising slightly. He could not meet Aberforth's eyes. "Gellert Grindelwald is not – nor has he ever been – unintelligent. He knew there was a good chance – even that it probably was – just a trick to find him and confront him. But Gellert thought it was worth the risk to see if I really did want to join him. He always wanted me – to use me –" Albus interjected when Aberforth pulled the face again, "solely for his own benefit, so he was hoping it was true. He used to say that we would have been unstoppable together. And maybe we might have been. I shudder to think... Gellert also thought that he would win an outright fight, so at worst-case scenario, he thought he would have to kill me. But he had truly believed I would have no chance at beating him. He doesn't..." his voice trailed off and he didn't finish that thought. "In other words, he thought he had nothing to lose and possibly, though a slim chance, he could have a very large gain. I don't know how he didn't win. I should have lost. I don't know how Gellert –"

"So he's 'Gellert' again now, is he?"

"It's shorter than 'Grindelwald,'" Albus murmured.

"Right," Aberforth said, rolling his eyes this time. "But you did have to end up outright battling him anyway."

"He had his back turned and he was busy debating with me," Albus said. "He gets feverish when he's debating things, distracted. But he still caught me. There were Aurors watching us, ready for them to take him after I immobilized him. I had told the Aurors where we would be. I had worked up to this for days."

"Days?" Aberforth said in disbelief. "You had been with Grindelwald for _days _working up to it?"

"Well, yes. He would have been completely ready if I just showed up, whipped out my wand and tried to hex him, wouldn't he? I tried to earn his trust."

Aberforth seemed tense. "I don't even want to know what happened over those days," he said stiffly.

"I'll take it with me to the grave," Albus mumbled, looking at his left hand.

"Good. Well, I guess ultimately, you did the right thing. It's just a shame…"

_That Ariana had to die first, _Albus finished in his head. "I know," he said heavily. His brow furrowed and he thought in silence.

"Awake now, are we?" said a woman.

Albus jumped so badly that the newspapers fell onto the floor.

"Sorry," the Healer said as she delicately picked them up for him. She was younger than him but not by much, and she was wearing a sweet smile. "Your nervous system may be a bit – er – exaggerated in the coming months. You nearly died. I'm glad you didn't. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, sir."

Albus shook hands with her. "Call me Albus," he said awkwardly.

She smiled. "Well, Albus. It looks like we were correct. We thought you would be waking up today. We told your brother here this would be the case, and he came hurrying to your side. How would you like to try to eat something for the first time in three weeks?"

"That's fine with me," he said hesitantly, even though he was not thrilled at the idea. His mind was too blown away with the knowledge that Aberforth had come "hurrying" to his bedside when they had not spoken since they were teenagers.

After she walked away, Aberforth said in a low voice, "Should I tell her she doesn't have a chance with you because you're –"

"No," Albus said sharply. But then he saw that Aberforth was smiling at him for the first time in almost forty-six years. It was contagious. Albus found himself smiling too.

* * *

Albus turned his head to see a face he had not seen in many years. A woman with honey-colored hair and a kind face had entered the room. For a moment, the two simply looked at each other. Then Albus breathlessly said, "_Fallon_."

She hurried toward him, her eyes a bit watery. She threw her arms around him, and Albus could tell that she had completely burst into tears.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered without letting him go, and Albus felt himself wanting to cry. "I knew that if anybody was going to stop him, it would be you."

She finally released him, but did not take her eyes off him for a long moment. Then she drew up a chair, sat down at his bedside, and clutched his hand.

"You shouldn't be proud of me," Albus finally said. "Believe me, my actions over the past week have not all exactly been heroic. I stopped him, yes, but I still... despite everything..."

"You can't control who you love, Al," she said knowingly. "It doesn't work like that. It's not _supposed_ to work like that."

He did not know what to say, so he simply ran his thumb across her hand in silence.

"He will spend the rest of his life locked away," she said softly. "You spared him his life. Perhaps he will come to regret what he has done, in all those years he will spend in a cell."

Albus shook his head. "No, he won't."

"You never know, Albus."

That was who Fallon was. Perpetual hope. It was just a shame she would die some ten years later of a disease the Wizarding world could not yet cure... she was simply too good for this world.

* * *

_A/N: Only Albus Dumbledore could have beat the unbeatable wand. You know that he was able to destroy the Horcrux in the ring, but he did not destroy the Ressurrection Stone? That's pretty amazing if you think about it. JK Rowling recently said, "Only Dumbledore could have done that." And so, only Dumbledore could have beat the Elder Wand. I did not want to cheapen the fact that he won it. Give Dumbledore credit for such an impossible feat.  
_

_Now I know what carpel tunnel is guys, omg. I'm in pain! I...must... stop. It hurts! Hope you enjoyed!_


	15. Harry (The End)

_A/N: This is the final thing. I've been working on this deranged fic for over half a year. I'm not really satisfied with it at all, which is proof I wrote it, so I will probably revisit it and revise parts silently. There's a brief thing with Grindelwald at the beginning, and then it's Harry.  
_

_I have been able to capitalize on the fact this scene is missing from Canon. I remember people distressing online when I was 10 before OotP was published over the Marauder's Map. The question was: What happened to it? Did Harry get the map back? Dumbledore had found out that Crouch Jr. had the map, but had they recovered it and where was it now? We know now Harry got it back, but we don't know how it happened. Soo, here we are. I'm not contradicting Canon. Haha.  
_

_I want to thank everyone who has reviewed, followed, or favorited this. Love you all!  
_

_** kaurlucky77** \- (sorry for the no periods in your name - Doc Manager wouldn't let me put the in?) Yeah, sexuality is kind of a weird thing. I mean, we know that Dumbledore didn't mess around with anyone else after Grindelwald, but I don't think he'd be really asexual. If he was asexual, he wouldn't have wanted dear Gellert. I'm not sure that he would've ever thought himself as asexual because I'm not sure that that is widely known - I think a lot of people don't even know that exists/is an option. But everybody is different. Dumbledore has self-loathing tendencies, which I go on and on about in this story, so I can see him as someone who repressed his homosexuality/was ashamed by it. _I_ don't think there's anything wrong with being gay, but I think a young, vulnerable Albus would have hated it about himself (though I think he'd get over it and wouldn't care later in life)... But that's just my take - my preference. _

_**the-little-guru** \- Thanks! I'm glad you liked my evidence notes at the bottom. _

_**Sue Clover** \- Hehe, you read To Forgive? I'm tempted to delete it and just include it in here, but some people favorited it and such. I like to think Gellert did, deep down, have feelings for Albus. I read a post recently about an analysis of Albus/Gellert, and it was pretty convincing that Gellert did care about Albus and did not want to hurt him. We know he tried to defend Albus' grave at the cost of Gellert's own life. I also have this idea that Gellert may have come to love Albus after it was all over - after he had spent decades in prison. Gellert had nothing to do but read and think. I think he sat thinking about Albus a great deal, and maybe he came to realize that there was something there, deep down. IDK. Dark wizards with feelings are adorable. _

_**Red Furry Demon** \- Haha, self-plagiarism! Yes, but I do kind of want to delete the old one. But yeah, I do think Gellert would've hesitated - he wouldn't have wanted to kill Albus. Why he would hesitate is the interesting question. Gellert is a complicated guy. You'd expect him to be Voldemort version #1, but then when Voldemort meets Grindelwald, Gellert lies, laughs, and goads him, all in order to protect the grave of the man who defeated him. Nothing like Voldemort. Wait, wait, wait, Emeric the Evil beat the Elder Wand? How did I not know this?_

_**BrigidSparks** \- Thank you! I think it's such trash to be honest, but I'm glad you enjoyed! And I do like cookies/muffins._

* * *

**1946**

What was terrible was all the time to think. Gellert had no future anymore, not even much a real present either, so all he could think about was the past.

Gellert felt quite certain the Nazi concentration camps were more humane than this. The Muggles, they at least had something to preoccupy their mind: survival. They at least had each other. He was wasting away, alone. He got newspapers. That was as much as what he got to remind himself that there was still a world out there. That was his only evidence. He had once heard his mother say that an idle mind is a devil's workshop, or something like that. But he had never known what she had meant until now. He was fairly certain that he was losing his mind. His mind was destroying himself.

What he thought about most of all was that damned man with his irritating pet bird and Gellert's former wand. Albus was probably having a fucking spectacular time sitting up with those idiot children, his candy, his phoenix, and his Elder Wand with all its power that he was only using to summon quills, grade papers, and light a dark room with.

_How had he managed to win over the Elder Wand anyway?_ Unbeatable wand, indeed. He hated this question most of all.

At first, he told himself that Albus had always been his equal. It had been a very close call, and Gellert wasn't quite sure how Albus had managed to live. But this made it seem like Albus was superior than he in his magical powers, and that did not sit well with Gellert. If they had been equals, Gellert should have won, because the _Elder Wand_ had _no_ equal. That would mean that Gellert was inferior, and he didn't like that. So then came the next theory: he had let Albus win.

He liked this theory even less.

_I didn't let him win_, he told himself. _I merely let my guard down. It was a terrible shock, and I had just hit him, that's all. Why would I ever let him win...? Yes, Gellert, why would I ever let anybody take the Elder Wand from me? I didn't _let_ Albus do anything. I -  
_

But he had been shaken when Albus almost succeeding in taking his wand right out of Gellert's pocket. It had frightened him. It made Gellert hurt. Why did it make him hurt?

This question haunted him.

* * *

**1995**

Albus Dumbledore was half-asleep while walking, but he did not stop. All the conversations that could have happened had happened. The night was over; the sun had risen, yet still, he did not plan to go to sleep. He was only half-aware of where he was going. It did not dawn on him that his feet had carried him to the Hospital Wing until he was facing the only three semi-conscious people within it. He _had_, after all, promised Harry that he would visit him again after speaking with Fudge. Why he had made this promise was a bit of a mystery. At the time he said that, Harry had Sirius, no less than three Weasleys, and Hermione Granger, why should he need him too? As if Albus was a comforting figure anyway... Even Severus would probably be a better mother hen than Albus Dumbledore.

Molly Weasley, Ron, and Hermione were still there at the unconscious Harry's bedside. It told Albus just how well Harry had picked the two friends he made in his first year. They all looked like they were ready to fall asleep sitting up, and their reactions to seeing Albus were delayed in their grogginess. They eventually all looked at him expectantly, as if Albus was meant to come give them answers to the questions that undoubtedly had plagued them all night long as Harry slept.

"You all ought to go and get some sleep," said Albus after he had held their gaze for a few seconds. "It's nearly seven."

Tears were filling Molly's eyes. "We can't leave him alone, Albus. What if he wakes up and no one is here?"

Albus shook his head. With a sigh, he said, "He will not wake up alone. I will stay with him. You three look like you are about to fall asleep sitting upright."

"Have _you_ gotten any sleep tonight?" asked Molly rather shrewdly.

Albus flicked his wand and drew up a chair for himself on the other side of Harry's bed. He pulled it up close to Harry and sat down tiredly. Harry looked peaceful - his expression was relaxed as he slept in a dreamless sleep.

"Of course I have," Albus lied to Molly finally, "but now it is time for you three to get at least a couple of hours. I will remain here until he wakes up."

The trio stood up looking half-relieved and half-guilty.

"You're absolutely certain?" asked Molly. "I can stay, Albus."

But Albus shook his head. "No, I'm fine, Molly. Truly, I will stay with him."

Molly nodded and followed the two teenagers out of the Hospital Wing.

Albus sat in silence for half an hour before remembering what he had in his pocket. He pulled it out the old parchment and examined "The Marauder's Map." It showed every single student, teacher, and visitor by name as they moved about the castle. He had no idea how or where Harry had managed to get this map, and he meant to ask Harry as soon as he woke up. He could understand why Barty Crouch Jr. would have wanted to "borrow" this map from Harry. Such a tool could be extremely useful, and Albus almost wished he had his own copy.

As Albus watched Harry sleep, he knew how greatly he had failed him. All year long, he had known something horrible was going to occur, yet he had still failed to stop it... He had encouraged Barty Crouch Jr. to keep close to Harry, to indirectly help him, to watch over him, and that was the worst thing that he could have encouraged. Right now, Albus was terrified. Tired as he was, the thought had still occurred to him that Voldemort might try to gain access into Harry's mind in the coming months. This realization scared Albus to the core. The thought of Voldemort hijacking Harry's mind made him feel sick, and he desperately tried not to think about that just yet. Harry was still alive, he had survived, which is more than Albus could have hoped for from such an ordeal. The only other good matter that he could gain from tonight was that he knew Voldemort was now _terrified_ of Harry, and this thought made Albus want to smile.

After Lily and James died, Albus had sworn to himself that he would not make mistakes when it came to Harry. Before Harry, Albus thought his life was at a close. He would continue to fight against Voldemort until either he died or Voldemort did, but he thought the story of Albus Dumbledore was over. He had never expected someone like Harry to come along and need him. He had never expected to have such a miraculous person on his hands at this stage of his life. In truth, Albus had almost been looking forward to death, but Harry needed him. He needed him now more than ever. Harry had never exactly _not_ been in danger, but now, with Voldemort at power... The poor kid, how awful of a thing it must be to be dependent upon Albus Dumbledore.

He had sworn he would not make mistakes in regard to Harry, yet he had. He would have to distance himself in the next year.

But before that, he would have one last talk with him. Harry wouldn't know it at the time, but it would be Albus' way of saying goodbye... for now. Yet he was afraid of the questions that Harry might ask. Albus was not sure how much Harry had absorbed from Voldemort's speech last night, but he knew that Voldemort had told Harry things Albus would rather he not know. Harry was supposed to be kept in the dark about everything. He was afraid Harry would ask him why Voldemort wanted him dead in the first place. Voldemort had said that he, Albus, had decided Harry would go live with his aunt and uncle. He was afraid Harry would ask him why in the hell Albus had any right to decide Harry's fate (hint: he had no right). He hadn't wanted Harry to know that it was him who placed him in their negligent care. Albus Dumbledore was supposed to be merely Harry's headmaster, no more. He was afraid Harry would demand he stay with Sirius that summer. Harry not returning to the Dursley's home would mean that protection would be broken forever. Albus couldn't let that happen, no matter how angry Harry was at this. _But your pawn has his own will now, Albus. He's nearly fifteen._ What if Harry ran away or flat-out refused? What if he demanded answers? What if he rebelled?

Harry wasn't supposed to know. But how much longer could he continue to hide the truth?

With a sigh, Albus reached out his right hand and brushed some of his dark hair upon his forehead.

"I love you, Harry," he admitted softly.

Harry slept on soundly, unresponsive.

An hour later, Harry was stirring. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly to find Albus sitting there with a stricken expression. He put his hands on his face, and Albus knew it was because Harry had just remembered what had happened last night.

_Harry doesn't have Sirius right now, Dumbledore; you sent him away. He doesn't have Mrs. Weasley or his two friends; you told them to go get some sleep. He only has you. How terrible of a thing is that?_

His walls breaking down, Albus reached out and took one of Harry's hands and held it. Harry looked surprised for a moment before closing his eyes. He did not pull his hand away.

Finally, Albus said, "You know, Harry, I found something interesting in Barty Crouch Jr.'s possessions."

Harry reopened his eyes as Albus pulled his hand away and retrieved the mysterious map from his pocket. It was a map of Hogwarts that showed everyone in the castle milling about. Albus watched for some kind of spark in Harry's eyes but found none yet.

"I attempted to figure out how it works," Albus continued, "by trying a few harmless spells on it. Nothing too serious, for I did not want to damage it, but then the most curious thing happened. Four people named Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs began to write the most amusing things directed to me by name."

There it was. A spark of amusement was lit in Harry's eyes. He smiled a small smile.

"I trust you know how it works, Harry?"

Harry nodded. He took the map gently from Albus' hands and removed his wand from his pocket. Harry pointed his wand at it and said, "In order to make the map blank, you say, 'Mischief managed.'"

Albus watched as the map's ink disappeared, leaving only an old, yet blank yellow parchment.

"That's important. Otherwise, anyone can read it. You don't want information falling into the wrong hands. So, then in order to bring it back, you say, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,'" said Harry softly. The map came back to life. "It even shows the secret passageways of the school. If you go up to a secret passageway entrance, the map will see you standing before it, and it will tell you the spell to say to open it."

Greatly amused, Albus smiled. "How in the world did your father's map ever come into your possession?"

"Fred and George stole it from Filch a long time ago," explained Harry. "Then in my third year, they gave it to me, since I wasn't..." voice trailed away.

"Since you weren't allowed to go to Hogsmeade the traditional route, yes," said Albus gently.

"Er, yeah, that," admitted Harry. "Of course, I really have no idea how they ever figured out how to use it in the first place though."

"Oh, those two are geniuses, very resourceful," said Albus seriously. "Most people simply do not realize that."

Harry nodded, starting to look sad again.

Albus knew he was going to have to distance himself from Harry. He knew Voldemort would most likely try to see into Harry's mind. He knew he would have to tell Harry about the prophecy soon. Thankfully, it was not today. There was no possible way that Voldemort would have already figured out that much.

"It is very fortunate," Albus told Harry softly, "that you are my favorite pupil. Otherwise, I would have no choice but to confiscate this artifact that obviously encourages rule-breaking, but you are speaking to the same mad person who gave you the Invisibility Cloak."

Harry smiled again more widely this time. Albus waited for the questions he was dreading, but none came. He suspected Harry was in too much shock to think clearly.

Albus put a hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "You can leave here in another forty-five minutes if you want, Harry. I still have to speak with the school, and since teenagers are not early risers, I have to wait until nine at the earliest. I told your friends to go get some rest, so that is why they are not here now. They stayed with you the whole night."

"What did you do all night, sir?" asked Harry glumly.

That hadn't been a question he was anticipated. Albus swiftly realized he had no good response to this besides the honest truth. He could not make a joke like he usually did to deflect a question off of him, and he could not lie. Harry had been through enough.

"I planned and schemed, Harry," he said finally. "Unfortunately, that is what I do most, and with Voldemort back, I am sure that is what I will be doing more than ever."

Harry nodded. He seemed to find comfort in this, which broke Albus' heart - Harry was so convinced that Albus' plans and intentions were always good.

"I'll get some more sleep," said Harry. "I'm fine. You don't need to stay or anything, sir."

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah, definitely. I'm still tired."

"All right, Harry. Feel free to ask Madam Pomfrey if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks, sir."

Albus strode out of the hospital wing, and he felt tears fill his eyes when he realized that was his last conversation he would have with Harry for a long time, maybe even years. Harry trusted him. It amazed him that Harry had not just re-asked why Voldemort wanted him dead to begin with. Harry had asked him at the end of his first year, and three full years had since passed, yet even with Voldemort's return, Harry still obeyed Albus' request to "put it out of his mind." _Harry trusted him_. He did what Albus asked him to do without hesitation. The familiar sensation of guilt washing over him hit.

But Voldemort had used Harry's blood... Harry's life would be tethered to Voldemort's. Albus was almost completely sure of it, but Harry could not know that he would survive when that terrible time came. Harry would have to be ready to willingly die - to walk to his own death... all at Albus' request.

Albus would have lifted this terrible burden off Harry's shoulders and transferred it onto himself if he could. But he couldn't. It had to be Harry. It always had had to be Harry.

_You love Harry just enough to be wracked by guilt and not enough to tell him he doesn't have to do it. You love Harry, but you love the greater good more. And the worst part is... Harry trusts you. So does everyone else. _

_I'm so sorry._

No matter how much he planned, no matter how much he tried, everything he touched fell apart.

* * *

_A/N: I just got home from work. Guess where I'm gonna be in less than 8 hours? Back at work.  
_

_All right, that's as much as I can think of. I can't write anymore Dumbledore whining about how much he hates himself, poor guy. I hope you all have enjoyed this super deranged fic!  
_


	16. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

_**A/N: Ummmm, hi guys? You probably weren't expecting me to update this as I finished this story well over a year ago. As it said in the description, I am writing about Albus Dumbledore again due to recent developments in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. If you haven't seen the movie yet, stop reading here, because everything written below this line is spoilerific.**_

_**Okay. As you know, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is quickly turning into a story about Gellert Grindelwald's reign. And it's going to feature Albus Dumbledore in it too, starting with the second movie. Which is like… what? Never did I ever, ever, ever, ever, ever think I would be finding myself watching a movie in which both a younger Albus and a younger Gellert are running around in their mid-forties.**_

_**Then I'm reading through stuff, and I find this interview. Me and my JK Rowling interviews. They served as so useful 10+ years ago, and still, they are SO EXCITING and AMAZING, because she knows how to tease us:**_

_**Erin Whitney: Will the movie present the future Albus Dumbledore as openly gay?**_

_**JK Rowling: *Smiling knowingly at the question.* Well, I can't tell you everything I would like to say because this is obviously a five-part story, so there's lots to unpack in [Albus/Gellert's] relationship. I will say that you will see Dumbledore as a younger man, and quite a troubled man, because he wasn't always the sage. He was always very clever, but we'll see what I think was the formative period of his life. As far as his sexuality is concerned… watch this space."**_

_**K… we're watching…**_

_**In the meantime, let me try my best to write Dumbledore as a "quite a troubled younger man."**_

_**Note: I would also like to thank everyone for the reviews I received after the last chapter over a year ago. It meant a lot to me! Thank you all!**_

* * *

**1926**

By daytime, Albus was a model teacher. He was still young, at least as far as Hogwarts teachers go. He was still the youngest professor at the school even, though he knew it was only a matter of time until he would no longer have that title. Yet he had proven himself early on as a gifted teacher. He was brilliant and dedicated. At first, the headmaster was worried about bringing on the twenty-one year old Albus as a teacher because he was so close to the seventh years in age, but his magical knowledge was enough to separate Albus from the students. He connected well with the students. He thoroughly understood his subject matter. He knew how to motivate his students, and he loved seeing his students' eyes light up with comprehension and joy when they were finally able to cast the spell correctly, even if it was just his first years turning a match into a needle for the first time. The headmaster couldn't ask for a better Transfiguration teacher.

But then by nighttime, he was a total mess. He was unrecognizable.

When the sun went down, Albus transformed into something his students never saw him as.

He put up such a great front by day. Nobody would ever know that on the inside, he was screaming in pain every night, nursing festering wounds within himself that he could not heal… would never heal. He spent each night trying to drown the voices out so he could sleep for once. Kill the voices that reminded himself of what he was… and what he had done.

Depending on how persistent the voices were, and on the day of the week, Albus had a few different things he used to drown them out.

Sometimes he could drown the voices out easily by listening to music playing very loudly or maybe taking a walk around the school at night. If the voices were at a mediocre volume, then he might be able to drown them out by writing or reading something. Sometimes he was wary of writing though, because on more than one occasion, Albus had sat down and written for an hour or so only to be horrified by what he had written. It always made him uncomfortable to black out when writing, to not think at all about what he was writing, and then read its contents. He was often… ashamed… of what he wrote. However, once he ripped the pages into microscopic pieces, he usually felt better.

And then, if the voices were extremely loud and persistent, he often had to stop himself from hurting himself. He hated to admit this to himself, but it was true. Albus had not deliberately hurt himself since that one time he had tried to kill himself with a knife twenty-seven years ago, but sometimes he couldn't help but linger his eyes on something sharp and play a 'what if?' scenario. For some reason, when he was bleeding to death on his kitchen floor, he had felt like the blood that was oozing out of him was dirty, and he was bleeding out all the bad parts so he could feel good again. Sometimes he still wanted to feel that sensation again. Sometimes he found himself thinking, _But maybe if it's just a little at a time_… He was extremely ashamed that it even still crossed his mind. He never wanted to let his mind go there. So, his remedy usually was, if it was a Friday or a Saturday… get drunk.

Not at Hogsmeade, of course. That would be ridiculous. At Hogsmeade, people knew who he was. People sat in a bar talking about Gellert Grindelwald's reign of terror. And Aberforth was at Hogsmeade. If Albus went sauntering into Aberforth's bar to get drunk out of his mind, Aberforth would probably punch him in the face, break his nose again, inform everyone in the bar of the fact that the famous Gellert Grindelwald was, in fact, an ex-lover of Albus Dumbledore's. Then Albus would find, in the _Daily Prophet_ and in different newspapers from all over the world the headline: _Dumbledore and Grindelwald: Ex-Lovers Near the Turn of the Century_. That title would be printed in English and in seven or eight other languages for the whole world to see. It might even make the front cover page. It would be in bolded in all capitalizations, he was certain of it.

It was almost impossible for Albus to look anyone in the eye, and nobody even knew. He already couldn't sit in a room where Grindelwald was being discussed. What would he do if the world _did_ find out? Die of shame after refusing to eat for months, probably.

It was better he didn't go around Aberforth. It was better his brother forgot about Albus' very existence, because if Aberforth ever did tell the world the truth…. Albus hadn't talked to his brother in twenty-seven years. Not since…

Scowling, Albus finished the last of his drink. No, instead of staying with wizards, he Apparated from Hogsmeade to London. London was full of all kinds of bars and people who had hit rock bottom in life. Better to play it safe and get drunk where no one knew his name.

His brain was fuzzy, but he still ordered another drink. He began listing off all of his academic recognitions. All of his awards. All of his groundbreaking work and research. It was kind of like whipping himself.

A brunette man and a blonde woman sat down at the bar table beside Albus. They weren't as drunk as Albus.

Albus' eyes shifted to the bar's perpendicular table. An attractive youngish-looking man with light blond hair was just sitting down, maybe twelve feet from Albus. Albus looked at him with lust in secret, hating himself.

Then he felt someone bump his elbow.

"Oh!" said the blonde woman. "I'm sorry," she apologized. Her voice was still pretty put together, but it was beginning to slur slightly.

"S'fine," Albus mumbled.

"Hey, sir," said the woman's date, "do you live around London? I wanna take this lady out to see something spectacular, but I don't know the area."

"Me'n neither," Albus said, his speech slurring badly.

"Oh," said the man. "That's okay."

"What's your name, dear?" the woman asked.

Albus was still glancing over at the blond man's general direction. "Albus."

"What d'you do for a living, Albus?" the woman's brunette date said.

"Teacher."

Both the woman and man laughed loudly. It drew the attention of the blond man. His eyes met Albus' eyes. He had blue eyes. Albus' heart began thumping harder. He loved it when they had blue eyes….

"You're a teacher?" the brunette man exclaimed. "You sure don't look like a teacher!"

"Am," insisted Albus indignantly.

"What do you teach?" persisted the blonde woman.

Albus' attention still was not on the woman and her brunette man, but he still began to answer her with, "Transfig…" then his brain stuttered to a halt. Transfiguration wasn't a Muggle subject. He was normally so brilliant, but he was in such a foggy state, so he had to think long and hard about translating Transfiguration into an equivalent Muggle study, only to find there really wasn't any kind of translation.

"You teach 'Transfig'?" echoed the woman.

"History," finished Albus pathetically.

"Transfig History?" repeated the woman incredulously.

"Yep," said drunk Albus defiantly, as if that was a real subject they should be familiar with. The blond man had looked away again.

"Wait," said the brunette man, apparently thinking carefully. "What's… what's transfig history?"

But Albus didn't even hear him. He was too busy looking at the blond man, tracking where his eyes went around the bar and, more importantly, where they didn't go. They weren't resting on a woman, at least not for long, anyway. This man was looking at the other men. Then the blond man looked at Albus again. Albus could see he looked like he was around Albus' own age – maybe his mid-thirties to his mid-forties. He had fair skin, a bit of stubble on his face, thin… a lot like Gellert would look today, he reckoned. Albus hated the feelings that were overcoming him. He remembered how Gellert had always drawn himself close to him, how he had always known how to nonverbally communicate affection for Albus even when barely moving. A touch of the shoulder… touching his neck, drawing him in close. Caressing.

_You imbecile_, he mentally cursed himself. Gellert hadn't touched him in twenty-seven years.

The blond man's eyes moved toward the door. He stood up and meandered around a bit, trying to appear indifferent. Then he wandered back over to Albus. He sat down beside Albus and ordered another drink. Albus' heart was positively hammering by now.

"What are you doing here alone?" said the blond man softly without looking at Albus.

There was a moment's pause before Albus answered truthfully, "Trying to drown out the voices."

The blond man paused.

"Not like," Albus slurred to clarify, "not like… real voices. I don't… I'm not crazy. Just…"

"Me too," whispered the blond man.

The two sat in silence for a while as Albus tried to screw up his courage. He didn't really want to control his emotions anymore. He didn't want to deny his feelings. He just wanted to have the courage to let himself have what he wanted… what he needed…. Push the shame down. The shame would be the end of him. Don't feel ashamed, don't feel ashamed…. He was certain Gellert wouldn't have a problem with wanting this. Sex was something as normal and mundane as eating or sleeping to him. Gellert would have already disappeared into the night with someone, male or female. Gellert was always completely comfortable with this. Albus never had been. He was forty-five years old, and he still had trouble admitting to himself what he was.

"You want to go outside?" said the blond man softly after the lengthy silence.

Two different emotions were swirling within Albus. One was self-disgust. The other was desire.

Desire won that night.

* * *

He felt ten times dirtier and even more ashamed than he had the night before. Albus thought he had hit rock-bottom last night, but he awoke to find himself even farther down than he was the night before. That's how it always seemed to go. He thought he had fallen all the way to the bottom, but then… he kept falling.

He returned to Hogwarts without running into anyone, mostly because he could easily make himself invisible. He couldn't look anyone in the eye. He didn't know if he ever would be able to again. So instead, he retreated to his quarters, settled down on the sofa, and tried to forget.

Then he heard a knock on the door. Albus ignored it.

Another knock. Then another. Albus knew who it was. He didn't know how she knew – how she always knew. There was no one else that would be this persistent with him. He had not seen her in nearly four years. But here she was, ready to break down his door after he had done something so shameful last night he thought he would die of embarrassment before Monday's staff meeting.

Then she started using spells. _Alohomora_ was first, and then the spells progressed to be more forceful. Albus still remained on his back on the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her spells got more and more aggressive until she finally destroyed his door. It exploded, blasting pieces of wood everywhere. One piece even hit the wall across the room.

Fallon emerged from the doorway, brushing off pieces of wood dust nonchalantly. She was wearing an ordinary dark blue traveling cloak and had her hair pulled up. She looked like she meant business.

"Albus," she said mildly. "Good morning. How are you?"

"I'm all right," Albus said dully without getting up. "How are you?"

"Fine," she answered.

Neither of them commented on the fact she just blasted his door to fine pieces.

"Why don't you sit up?" she suggested after a beat.

Obedient, Albus slowly sat up on the sofa to face his second best friend he used to have as a Hogwarts student. Nowadays, Albus felt like she was his closest friend rather than Elphias. This was because Elphias didn't know Albus' secret. Elphias didn't know that Albus Dumbledore had spent his summer after graduation sleeping with another man, a man who was now killing innocent Muggles all across the world in the name of the greater good.

Fallon knew. She knew all about him and Grindelwald.

Calmly, Fallon waved her wand. Hot tea began to ready itself in Albus' small kitchen across from his tiny living quarters. Albus listened to the clinking of silverware and the boiling of water until two mugs of tea floated over to them. Albus' cup sat itself down on the coffee table right in front of him.

Fallon took a sip from her own mug before speaking again.

"Go ahead and tell me everything," she said calmly.

Albus put his face in his hands. He ran his left hand through his tangled hair. It was getting too long. "_Everything_?" he exclaimed. He then gave a mirthless chuckle.

Her brown eyes surveyed him closely. "Well, maybe not everything," she said gently. "Let's start with who the man was that you slept with last night. What was his name?"

Albus' face was already burning. "What? How do you –?"

"You might want to use a spell to get rid of those red marks on your neck. What is that – fingernails or…?"

"You ask way too many questions," he muttered. At first he wondered how he didn't catch that when he looked in the mirror first thing that morning. Then he knew why: because he hadn't looked in a mirror yet this morning. He tended to avoid doing that, even when he was in the bathroom.

"You asked me," she reminded him. "I'm just telling. I answer your questions, so now you answer mine, please. What was his name?"

Albus didn't answer. He hoped that she would misinterpret his silence as defiance.

"Oh Albus," she sighed. "You didn't even know his name?"

He could already see tears welling up in his eyes, blurring his vision. He couldn't speak. No, he hadn't known his name. His name was irrelevant. All he knew was that the man looked like Gellert. That was all that had mattered. A sob escaped from deep within his chest involuntarily.

Fallon put down her tea and joined Albus on the couch he had just been asleep on. She sat crisscrossed facing him. Then she pulled him into an awkward embrace where he wasn't really being hugged, but his head and neck were just kind of nestled on her shoulder, her two arms resting on his shaking back. He began to cry. He tried to keep quiet, but the sobs seemed to be coming from deep within his chest, and every breath was a painful gasp. Fallon sighed deeply again and tightened her hold on her childhood best friend.

She waited for his sobs to stop before softly saying, "I'm sorry, Albus. I love you."

For any outsider, it would look like this scene was sign of some kind of romantic feeling between them, but both Albus and Fallon knew they felt nothing of the sort for each other. Albus wiped the tears from his face, trying to gain some last shred of dignity within himself.

He had none.

"He looked like Gellert," mumbled Albus pathetically, wanting to be understood.

"I quite understand."

Albus shook his head. "Stupid… really…"

"No, it isn't," she said defending Albus from himself. "It makes a lot of sense. You've not been in any kind of relationship with anyone since Gellert, have you?"

Albus shook his head. No. He hadn't. And that was the truth.

"So it makes sense," she told him. "You miss him. You feel alone because you have been alone for a long time."

"But how can I? He killed about thirty Muggles last week in Spain. Blew up a bridge. I mean, do you read what the newspapers –"

"Yes, Albus, I read what the newspapers say," she said, sounding a bit impatient for the first time. "I see the name 'Grindelwald' almost every day."

There was an awkward pause.

Albus shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "I simply don't know what to do."

Fallon made a small noise of dissent. "Yes, you do," she said. "You have to stop blaming yourself. Stop torturing yourself. You have to move on with your life and finally put the past behind you. You're forty-five years old, Albus, and you've been carrying this since you were eighteen." Fallon paused. "No, even that's wrong," she corrected herself. "You've been carrying along this self-hatred since you were ten. Because when you were ten –"

"Ariana," he whispered.

"Right," Fallon said calmly. "You blame yourself for that. And you lost your father to Azkaban, where he then died. You've been carrying this burden since you were ten. And you haven't let go, have you? You just keep adding more to it. First, your sister was attacked, and you blame yourself. Then your father was taken away – you blame yourself. Then your mother was killed by Ariana – you blame yourself. Then Ariana was killed by –"

"Gellert," he said quietly.

"And then –"

"He went on to become what he is today, and I helped him get there."

Fallon breathed deeply. "Right. How much longer can you keep doing this to yourself?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

"Fine?" she exclaimed. "Fine? This is fine to you? Look at yourself, Albus! You're killing yourself. You're torturing yourself. You have to let go."

"I did! That's what I was trying to do last night!"

Fallon opened her mouth to angrily retort, but then she closed it again. He watched her as she tried to gain a better sense of control. Her Gryffindor temper was getting to her.

"I see," she said quietly. "Now I get it. It's not a matter of knowing you should let go; it's a matter of knowing how to let go. You think that you did yourself a favor last night? Huh?"

Albus only gave her a confused expression. He really didn't know what she was talking about. Yes, he had done himself a favor last night. He had gone out into the world. He had told himself to let go of his shame, let go of his denial, and let himself have what he wanted. He spent all his spare time trying to deny his feelings, and he never expressed them, but then he had stopped fighting last night, he let go of the tight control he kept himself under, so why was she insinuating he was doing the opposite? She wasn't making sense. She wasn't there last night. She didn't know that the last thing he thought was, _Let go of your shame_…

Fallon sat quietly for a moment as if she was trying to gather her thoughts. So was he.

Finally, she took a deep breath and said, "Albus, you didn't 'let go' last night. You did the complete opposite."

"No, I didn't," he snapped. "You weren't there; you don't know."

"No, Albus, I wasn't there, but I still know what you did because I know _you_. Let me give a narrative of what you did last night, and then you can tell me if what I'm saying is accurate, just so you don't think I don't know what I'm talking about. All right?"

Albus didn't nod, but he didn't shake his head either. He just maintained eye contact. That was permission enough.

"You went out and got drunk in a bar in the city. Probably London," she said.

He didn't deny it.

She continued. "You kept to yourself in a bar where no one knew who you were."

He didn't deny it.

"Then you saw a man that looked similar to Grindelwald. Handsome, blond hair, blue eyes, right? Tall?"

He didn't deny it.

"Then you started wanting him. You eventually made your way over to him –"

"You're wrong," said Albus baldly, loving the way those words felt in his mouth when they were directed at Fallon.

"All right," she said after a beat with only a hint of irritation. "He went up to you and sat down beside you."

Silence. She was right.

"And then you two went off into the night to have some kind of drunken sexual encounter with an absolute stranger. You didn't ask for his name, and he didn't ask for yours. You just had sex without a word passing between you."

He didn't deny it.

"Did you even think, for the faintest of moments, that that wasn't a good idea?" she pressed. "Do you realize you just used him and he you? Two complete strangers? Did you even find a building to do this in, or did you just drop your clothes in an abandoned alleyway?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Albus, trying to sound indignant. "Of course it didn't happen in an alleyway."

She waited, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"It happened in an abandoned shed behind a restaurant next door."

"That's great, Albus," Fallon said with venom. "That's just really great. That makes it so much better."

"So what do you want me to do?" he retorted. "You want me to never ever touch another human being again, or –?"

"You don't understand," she said, sounding exasperated. "You really don't get it."

"Well then, you're the genius here, not me! You tell me what I'm supposed to do!" he snapped.

"You need to stop running away," she said forcefully. "You need to accept yourself for who you are and what you are, and then you need to let other people in. Going off and having sex with the first drunk man you meet in a bar is not letting other people in! It's superficial and weak. It's just another form of running. You run from all meaningful relationships, Albus, and it's not just the romantic kind. You run away from friendship, from family; you run away from everyone. And you hurt yourself in the process. Why did you have to choose a man that reminded you of Gellert Grindelwald? Why didn't you go for a man with brown hair, or red, or black? Brown eyes?"

Albus' head was spinning. "Because –!" he began to explain. But then he felt silent. He didn't know why 'because' anymore. He didn't know how to finish that sentence he had just began so forcefully.

"Because you are hurting yourself," she finished for him. "You like to hurt yourself. You're focusing on the past, and your past hurts you. You know what you need to do? You need to keep in contact with your old friends. You need to write back to me when I write to you instead of ignoring me like you've done for the past four years. You need to answer Elphias' letters too. You need to let me in when I knock on your door. You need to build new friendships with your colleagues here at Hogwarts. You need to focus on making things better for your students, the ones who pass into your classroom every day, who look up to you. And if you're going to have a relationship with someone again, it can't be some random drunk man who reminds you of Gellert that you meet in a bar and have sex with inside a shack behind a restaurant at one o'clock in the morning! That is not letting go! That is holding on! That is you hurting yourself!"

A stunned silence met Fallon's words. Albus hated them, despised them, because he knew everything she had just said was true. An overwhelming sensation of sadness hit him like a wall of bricks.

"Fallon," he said softly after a lengthy silence.

"Yes, Albus?"

"When am I going to hit rock bottom?"

Her eyes scanned his face.

"Albus," she said finally, "you're already there. You've been there for a long time now."

He closed his eyes.

They sat in silence for a long time. Albus kept his eyes closed. They sat like that for so long, he began to wonder if she had gotten up and left. Then he felt Fallon's hands take his hands.

"Fallon?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She didn't speak. She just kept holding his hands.

"That summer, after… after he left…. I hurt myself. Right after her funeral. I… I tried to kill myself." He felt her squeeze his hands harder, and even though Fallon didn't know about this part until now, she refrained from interrupting him. It made it easier for him to keep going. "I'm not proud of it. But I almost bled to death on my kitchen floor. I would have had Mrs. Bagshot not come snooping around to check up on me. I almost didn't make it. I had lost so much blood…. Nobody… nobody knows about this. Aberforth had already fled. Gellert had fled. Elphias never found out. I just… I've never told anybody."

She inhaled sharply before repeating, "You've been at rock bottom for a long time, Albus."

"So…" he said, reopening his eyes, "how do I get out?"

Fallon traced her right thumb across his right hand before answering. "You have to figure out what you stand for. And then you have to stand for it."

_But what do I stand for?_


End file.
